Fighter
by PerfectPride
Summary: Andy and Miranda femslash pairing. Andy is attacked one evening whilst delivering the Book and receives help from someone she never thought would care.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Fighter (1/6)

**Pairing: **Miranda/Andrea

**Author: **perfect_pride

**Rating: **I'm going with R. There's nothing too graphic but there is violence and slight sexual content, so I feel it's my duty to warn you of that.

**Disclaimer: **I own nada.

**Summary: **Andy is attacked one evening whilst delivering the Book and receives help from someone she never thought would care. This is set after Paris as though Andy didn't walk away and she is still Miranda's assistant.

**A/N:**This is the second ever Devil Wears Prada fic I've posted, and I really hope you guys like it as much as you liked the first one! I live in the UK so if there's any slight spelling differences from the US, that's probably why. The idea stemmed from certain tube experiences of my own, such as a few years ago when a man on the same London tube as me picked me up by the scruff of my neck and threw me down the carriage. And once on a Rome metro an old lady with a picture of a saint on her bag shouted profanities at myself and a friend in Italian. She apparently wasn't a fan of the length of my dress. ;)

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_**1.**_

For all her faults, mistakes and accidents; Andy Sachs thrived upon routine. Although said routine was regularly interrupted by her ability to say something stupid, fall over thin air or email the wrong person the wrong message; she was not a fan of spontaneity. She'd discovered over the years that being impulsive only served to increase the chance of her screwing something up, no matter what it was. However, since working at Runway to a certain extent she'd had to give up her need to know everything well in advance, mainly due to the fact that Miranda Priestly was anything but predictable regarding everything from when she wanted her coffee every morning to the scheduled meetings with Irv that she frequently chopped, changed and avoided.

At first, Andy had struggled to adapt to hurried decisions that were flipped on their head like a coin, and she had a permanent uneasy and panicky feeling in the pit of her stomach every damn time that Miranda rearranged something. In addition, Andy was sure it was half the reason that Nate had split up with her because her predictable nature had always been something that he'd found appealing. Once that had begun to disappear along with her commitment and devotion to their relationship, his love had also begun to diminish.

The break-up itself had only affected Andy to the extent that she missed the routine that Nate had unwittingly provided her with. He had been a constant in her life, and even when they had been arguing, it had eventually become the norm, and so it didn't really upset her in the way it should. In hindsight, that was a sure sign that they were never meant to be; no matter how much any one person thrived on routine it did not make for a loving, satisfying relationship. She didn't miss his kisses, his touch. She just missed the constant, steady presence of someone else in her life, and that was what she had found hard to accept and move on from.

Shaking her head free of all Nate-related thoughts, Andy hurried onto the subway train not paying attention to her surroundings. It was Friday, and she was on her way to deliver the Book to Miranda at the townhouse as usual, but she was feeling so tired that all she wanted was to fall into her bed which she had a serious craving for right now. Roy had been unable to pick her up as he had given a lift home to Miranda's nanny who had come down with the flu, and had gotten stuck in traffic on his way back to pick up Andy from Elias-Clark. Andy, exasperated and impatient, had told him to go home and she'd take the subway, knowing that if she didn't leave immediately she would be late delivering the Book. As it was, she was already cutting it fine. Although the Book was ready anytime up until ten thirty, if she was any later than ten forty-five p.m exactly Miranda would most likely have her hung, drawn and quartered as punishment. It was already gone twenty past and without a car to travel in Andy wasn't sure she had sufficient time.

Andy shivered, her blouse not being enough to keep her warm. She'd stupidly left her Calvin Klein coat back at the office, and by the time she'd realised she had already left the building. In too much of a rush to waste anymore time, Andy decided to grin and bear the cold; a decision which she was dearly regretting now. Crossing her fingers quite literally, she hoped as hard as she could that it would at least stay dry. Running in the rain without an umbrella was bad enough, but surviving it without anything but her flimsy Chanel blouse and skirt (which would no doubt get ruined) was Andy's version of hell in the way that cold coffee was to Miranda.

_Although these past few weeks, Miranda has been more tolerant_, Andy mused. She had no idea why but her boss wasn't sending her rushing around the streets of New York trying to achieve the impossible. Oh, there was still the odd manic trip here and there, but whereas they had previously been frequent and at least once a day, they now only occurred two or three times a week. On several occasions it had even looked as if Miranda was about to smile at Andy, but a second glance and the Editor once again wore a neutral expression on her face. At first Andy had debated the possibility that Miranda was taking things a little easier around the office, but no, she appeared to be her usual self, albeit a little more distracted than usual. Andy had just decided to enjoy it whilst it lasted and not get too hung up on what was going on in the world of Miranda; her job was to attend to all of Miranda's wants and needs, not psychoanalyse the woman.

Yawning, Andy stopped her daydreaming and sat back against a seat, counting that there were three stops until she had to switch trains onto another line. Even after all these months of using the subway, Andy still found herself checking the maps plastered on the train wall to make sure she was heading in the right direction, though she now did so much more quickly than she had previously. She distracted herself by staring at the dark walls outside as the train whizzed past, and counted down silently each time the train took off again.

_Three stops._

_Two stops._

_One stop._

_Here!_

She rushed off the train, moving fast to try and stay warm. It was only when she felt herself run into something solid that in her slightly winded state, she looked up to see a tall, well-dressed man in a navy suit towering over her. His shoes were also navy and he wore a plain violet shirt, but that was all Andy could really take in through her tiredness. He had his dark brown eyes fixed on her face as he leered over her, and Andy found herself thinking that he would have been good-looking were it not for the slightly crazed look in his eyes, and something about his expression that immediately made her feel on edge. His black wavy hair was slicked back with gel, and he was freshly shaven. He really looked quite presentable, but there was something about him that just didn't sit right with Andy.

"Watch where you're going there missy," he said gruffly.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I'm just in such a rush and didn't see you."

When the man continued to watch her, saying nothing, Andy began to feel a little freaked. What was with this guy? She'd apologised, hadn't she? Stepping to the side, she walked around him, and without looking back, made her way up the stairs and back down onto another platform where thankfully the subway train was already waiting. Throwing herself on she breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that she'd just made it and that it wasn't long until her journey was over. Maybe after she'd dropped the Book off she'd fork out for a taxi for a change; the traffic should have lessened by that point. She was too tired to eat dinner and so the money she saved from that could go on a quick ride home instead. Besides, she didn't want to come into contact with anymore freaks.

Glancing back, she was relieved to see that there was no sign of the man in the suit. He'd probably just been a little drunk, or maybe exhausted like her; he looked decent enough, after all. It was nothing to worry about; she was just being paranoid and ridiculous. If Miranda were here now (not that there was a chance in hell of her setting foot on public transport) she would no doubt roll her eyes at Andy's suspicion and tell her to compose herself.

Sighing, she was grateful when the train again took off, only two stops away from her final destination now. She didn't think she'd ever looked forward to a weekend as much as she currently did at this moment in time when everything just seemed to be catching up on her. Never before had she so direly needed a break from the insane world of Runway coupled with Miranda's demanding nature.

_Miranda._ Miranda who she refused to allow herself to think about in anything other than a professional manner, for fear of revealing the inner-lesbian within. It wouldn't have been so bad had Miranda not been heterosexual and twice divorced with a couple of nightmare spawn, but unfortunately that was the reality she was faced with. Andy was sure that if she allowed herself to fantasise in private eventually such fantasies would enter the forefront of her mind when she was actually in Miranda's presence, and that was something that she could never allow to happen. _Ever._

She could just picture it now were she ever to look at Miranda in anything even resembling an inappropriate manner. She doubted Miranda would waste any time in telling her to leave immediately, and by the end of the day she would inevitably have been blacklisted by every last Publishing House, big or small, in the entire state of New York. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to destroy all of Andy's dreams without a second thought, because what did it matter to her if Andy's life as she knew it was destroyed? More to the point, for Andy the idea that Miranda would do something so cruel was something she couldn't handle. It hurt badly enough to know that she would never be able to have Miranda as her significant other, but if the silver haired woman ever deigned to take away her desires of becoming a successful journalist... well that was something Andy could never risk happening. It was better to love secretly from afar, because at least then Miranda could only ridicule her for the mistakes she made in her professional life.

Eventually, Andy shook herself from her thoughts as the train came to a stop. She practically threw herself onto the platform, nearly dropping the Book in the process. Cursing, she took careful, slightly slower steps in her Valentinos, trying not to have any stupid accidents that would cause her to destroy the Book and end up fired. She had an inkling that should anything happen to the pride and joy of Runway then Miranda would personally see to it that she spent the rest of her life anywhere except the entire state of New York, as opposed to just the world of publishing itself.

"Need a hand there, sweetcheeks?" A scratchy, slightly familiar voice said from seemingly nowhere. "Your pretty little ass seems in a bit of a hurry."

Spinning around, Andy took a sharp intake of breath as she saw the man in the suit from earlier. He looked even scarier than he had during their first encounter. Trying to remain calm, Andy said in as firm a voice as she could muster, "No. No thank you. I'll be just fine." She turned back around and began taking greater strides, preparing herself to run quicker than she had ever run for Starbucks coffee.

When she heard the rapid footsteps behind her, her heart slammed into her chest as she force herself to go even faster, no easy task considering the four inch heels she was wearing. She had gone from feeling slightly creeped out and by now had hit fully fledged terror as she tried to get away from her stalker.

Eventually, after what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, she reached the steps leading out of the subway, and her eyes glanced around wildly, looking for someone, _anyone_ to help her.

She was halfway up the steps when she felt the freak's hand grasp her from behind. It was hot and sweaty against her icy skin, and the feel of him repulsed her. She attempted to wrench away with no luck, and in frustration she screamed, "Get off! Don't touch me!"

He had a firm hold of her, but still Andy struggled. "Hmm. You're so sexy, do you know that?" He pressed himself against her from behind. "And you smell so good."

Trying not to gag, Andy whimpered. "Please. Don't."

He ignored her. "You're mine now, and I'm going to have you." He dragged a hand up, underneath her shirt and across her breasts, making Andy want to vomit. He groped her for what felt like forever, pinching and twisting her nipples, and then breathing hard, he pulled his hand out and placed it over her mouth instead. Andy thought she might have been screaming, because why else would he have done that? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she had never been so terrified in her whole life.

Taking the opportunity, Andy bit down. _Hard._ It didn't break the skin, but it did cause him to cry out. "Ahh!"

"Get off!" She yelled in retaliation, even louder than previously.

He smashed his elbow into her cheek and nose in an attempt to quieten her. "Shh, shh," he told her. Andy saw stars. She barely had time to focus her vision when she felt a further two blows smash against her torso, before he clasped a hand over her mouth again. "Don't fight it, sweetheart."

She honestly wanted nothing more than to fight it but she froze, suddenly unable to move from the pure terror that she felt inside. She considered her options, but she was seriously limited by the fact that she was nowhere near as strong or powerful as the man clutching her. Her vision was swiftly clouding over and she felt her consciousness slipping away. _If I pass out, I'm dead_, she thought. _I'll never escape from him._

It was then she realised that throughout this entire nightmare she'd still had the Book clasped in her hands, and Miranda's face flashed before her eyes. _Miranda._ She might never get to see her again. This thought above all sent a sear of adrenaline rushing through her veins, and without pausing to consider her actions, she dropped the Book in front of herself and threw herself back into her captor, sending them both flying down the stairs. She felt her knees bang against concrete on the way down, scraping, but her head was protected for the most part by the madman's torso, cushioning her blow when they finally landed at the foot of the staircase.

Sucking in a huge breath, Andy launched herself into the air, crying out at the pain that sliced through her knees. Ignoring it she turned, seeing immediately that the man was moving, groaning. Wondering if she'd hurt him badly, she staggered backwards, screaming out as she felt his hand close around one of her ankles (_Left? Right?_ She couldn't even work it out) and without hesitation, she lifted her other foot and thrust her heel down into his groin.

He cried out, immediately letting go of her ankle and clutching the surrounding area of where she had injured him. Free from his touch at last, Andy ignored the fact that her entire body was throbbing and sped towards the street above, still wearing her heels in case he decided to come after her and she needed to once again kick out at him. She had enough presence of mind to grab the Book on her way up, and the moment she reached the open air of the street above she gulped in a fresh breath of oxygen, once, twice, and then took off again running as fast as she could away from the station.

Although she was going in the direction of the townhouse, she didn't want to lead the madman towards Miranda's home, and so she periodically checked behind, to the sides, everywhere around her to make sure that he wasn't following. She decided that once she reached the avenue on which Miranda lived, she would pause for breath and see if he reappeared, because under no circumstances was she going to lead him anywhere near to the Priestly family. _No way in hell._ She would die before she ever put Miranda or her girls in that sort of danger.

After a while it felt like she'd been running for hours, but realistically could not have been more than a few minutes. Her knees were starting to burn as though they were enveloped in flames, and she had developed a limp, for one was worse than the other as far as pain was concerned. She gasped for breath as she reached the familiar row of houses, and she slowed, realising that had she been followed, this was the madman's ample opportunity to come out of the shadows and take her.

She decided that she'd give him until sixty in her head, and then if there was still no sign of him she would go to Miranda's, drop the Book off and then hide behind Miranda's wall, waiting for a taxi to pick her up. The moment she got home she would call the police and seek medical assistance if she needed it, but she would not bring the emergency services to Miranda's road and cause a huge fuss when one didn't need to be caused. Besides, she didn't want to spend a moment outside than was absolutely necessary; the longer she waited in the vicinity of the madman, the greater the chance that he would hunt her down.

"Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three," she muttered, her eyes still darting around, waiting for a further attack. No longer cold, the adrenaline pumped through her veins, driving her vigilance and energy. She was poised ready to defend herself, back to the wall, looking up and down the street in all directions. She wiped her nose and saw blood on her trembling hand. He'd hit her? She didn't really remember that, or what exactly had just transpired. It was all so fuzzy and confusing, and her vision blurred as she tried to stay calm and not cry, not breakdown. She had to be brave now. _Stay strong. _

"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty..." she continued to chant, getting more nervous now that she was nearing a minute. It would be just her luck that with a tenth of a second left the madman popped back out and grabbed her like something out of a seriously bad teenage horror movie. Then she would give a predictable scream, he would finish her off painfully, and that would be that. _Done._ _Over._

"Fifty-nine, sixty," she uttered, hardly believing she had made it. She waited for a tenth of a second more, wondering when the finale was going to begin. Except it didn't. She was alone, less than a hundred metres from Miranda's house, and she had escaped.

* * *

Dizzily, she walked up the pathway to the familiar townhouse, and quietly as possible opened the door. The warmth of the home immediately hit her as she stepped through the doorway, and she hastened to shut the door behind her, preventing more than just the cold from gaining entry to the hallway. He would not come in here, not near Miranda. She'd throw herself back onto the street and run in the direction of the subway station if his hideous face appeared; under no circumstances would she scream and attract Miranda's attention thereby putting her in danger. She cared too much for the older woman to ever allow that to happen. Miranda's safety was so paramount to her that despite it not being her house nor her decision to make, she drew across the chain lock on the door, followed by the two bolts. She may only be in the townhouse long enough to drop off the Book (she spared a brief moment to be thankful for there not being any dry cleaning this evening) and then on her way home, but it was best to keep it locked just in case. She'd take a couple of minutes to catch her breath, and then she'd leave as planned.

She wanted so badly to have a shower, to get the smell of him from her. The sensible and rational parts of her dictated that she had to wait until the police had told her it was ok; she didn't want to destroy any possible evidence. It wouldn't be that long really, as soon as she'd called them she was sure they'd take the evidence before doing anything else, and then she would be able to wash away any mere fibres that the freak had left behind, tainting her.

Swaying, she made her way over to the table that the Book was always placed on, and set it down carefully. Glancing over it, she panicked as she saw that there was a small stain of blood on the front, and the corners were slightly battered. There was nothing she could do to straighten out the corners, but she'd have to try and get rid of the blood. Frantically, she began to rub at it, trying to make it disappear.

"No, no, no..." she hissed as it refused to budge, terrified at what Miranda's reaction was going to be. She was so unemployed if she couldn't make this vanish. What could she do? She couldn't focus her thoughts, the pain that was coursing through her body making it impossible to think clearly. God, the horrible, shooting pain. "Fuck. _Fuck!_" She moaned in agony.

Just when she was beginning to think that things couldn't possibly get any worse, she heard the voice that she knew so well. "Andrea? Do you care to give me a reason as to why you are using such eloquent language?" Miranda asked sarcastically, appearing from the study.

"I'm sorry, Miranda," Andy managed to croak out, avoiding eye contact and allowing her hair to fall around her face to hide the state of it. She couldn't deal with this now. She'd just have to leave and hope that in the dim lights Miranda didn't notice the damage she had done to the Book_. Like hell that would happen,_ she thought. _She notices everything._ "I'll just get out of your way and leave." She still refused to look over at the Editor knowing that one glance and she would be torn between crying and running. Or maybe she would be hit with an overwhelming urge to hug the Editor, and when she uncontrollably acted on her feelings Miranda would slap her, causing her pain beyond what she had already experienced this evening. All she knew for certain was that she absolutely, one hundred percent could not look at Miranda. Carefully turning the other way, she began walking back towards the front door. Miranda would think she was rude and punish her in the morning, but she would deal with that then. She doubted Miranda would go so far as to fire her. She hoped. But what other choice did she have?

"Wait," Miranda said firmly from behind her. It was the tone of voice that blatantly stated do-not-fuck-with-me-or-you-shall-suffer.

Andy stopped, stared ahead. She stood resolutely still and in as normal a voice as she could muster, she replied, "Yes, Miranda?"

"Turn around," Miranda commanded.

No. No, she couldn't do that. She _couldn't_. "I'm sorry, Miranda, but I really have to go," Andy said, trying to sound regretful as she began walking towards the door again. Only a few steps and she would be in danger, but also free of interrogation from the silver haired Editor.

"Andrea!" Miranda almost exclaimed her name this time, the closest she'd ever come to raising her voice in Andy's presence. It emphasised her very individual pronunciation of Andy's full name even further, and caused a pang of regret within Andy's heart at the emotions she was drawing out of Miranda. At the memories of the first time she'd walked away, that time she would not allow herself to think about. "Do not even think of disobeying me."

Ignoring her, Andy raised a trembling hand and removed the chain lock from the door. She hoped Miranda didn't comment on the fact that they had been drawn. What would she say to justify it? _Sorry Miranda, a crazy guy attacked me. _Miranda would probably only roll her eyes, deliver her infamous line, _That's all_, and tell Andy to wait outside whilst she called an ambulance to have her carted off to a crazy ward.

Andy's eyes were watering by this point, and she bit back a sob knowing that she couldn't control her emotions for much longer. All she had to do was pull back the two bolts and she would be free to leave. "I'm sorry, but I have to," she offered by way of an apology. She wasn't sure if she should keep speaking, but then it was unforgivably and inexcusably rude to leave without saying goodbye, wasn't it? Her voice breaking with emotion, she forced out, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Except now Miranda and her heels were clicking over towards her, and _who the fuck wore heels in the comfort of their own home anyway?_ This wasn't going as planned, this was all one big, stupid mess and now Andy had no idea what to do. The pain was still blazing through her, her legs were wobbling and she felt as though she would pass out if she didn't sit down pretty damn soon. What should she do? She didn't have it in her to run, and besides, she wasn't thinking as quickly as usual and Miranda was going to be next to her in no time at all, and then she would see the stain on the book and the state of Andy and...

"Andrea," Miranda spoke softly this time, a contrast to all previous tones that she'd thrown at Andy this evening. "Look at me."

Andy looked steadfastly ahead, refusing to acknowledge Miranda's words. She tried to stop her teeth from chattering, her body from shivering. She was going hot and cold, back and forth. The constant changes in temperature made her want to scream out loud and never stop.

"Please," Miranda said, still just as gently as she had previously spoken. She waited a few moments, seemingly giving Andy the opportunity to change her mind. Apparently she was just as impatient as ever because within ten seconds she had given up seeing if Andy was going to act of her own accord, and she carefully placed a hand on Andy's arm, turning Andy around herself. It was the first time Andy had ever been touched by the Editor, and her heart felt as though it were ripping in two at the thought that it was probably never going to happen again.

There was no energy left in Andy to fight, and so she allowed Miranda to do as she pleased, all the while knowing that this was going to break what was left of her into a million little pieces. She caught a flash of silver hair as she hazily attempted to look anywhere but Miranda and inhaled the scent of Chanel No. 5 which made her struggle to keep her breath steady. Her final undoing was the moment that her own chocolate brown eyes settled on Miranda's lightening blue orbs, and she let out an uncontrollable sob, no longer able to stop the tears from cascading rapidly down her cheeks.

"What is wrong?" Miranda asked, an unfamiliar emotion in her voice. Had Andy been anyone else she might have considered it to be worry. But she had to be misreading the situation; didn't she?

"N... nothing," she sobbed. "I'm fi...fine."

"You're not fine," Miranda countered, a hand still resting on Andy's arm. Fleetingly, Andy wondered if she was the first assistant Miranda had ever touched. And then she was brought back to the present by Miranda speaking again. "Your face. What happened to your face?"

Andy opened her mouth to say that she'd walked into a wall, or that she fell down the stairs (half true), or that she had been running in heels and tumbled down. She tried desperately to lie, but no words would form in her mouth, and her vision clouded over entirely. Knowing that she was powerless to stop the inevitable she allowed the last bit of energy to leave her legs, giving way to the exhaustion that had enslaved her body. It would hurt when she hit the varnished wooden floor, but at least then she'd probably just pass out completely. If she was lucky enough then Miranda might even call an ambulance, and they'd give her wonderful drugs so that it didn't hurt anymore. The sirens as they hurried to get her may even scare away the madman if he was still out there searching, and she'd be safe once again.

She stopped.

She fell.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for all the feedback; it's all been so lovely and sweet... you're all very amazing!

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_**2.**_

One thing that Andy hadn't banked on was Miranda catching her, or carrying her up the stairs and depositing her down onto a bed. Apparently Miranda really was capable of anything; even carrying her smart fat assistant whilst wearing five inch heels. Huh. Who would have thought it?

"You need to tell me what's happened, Andrea," Miranda said with a sense of urgency that was unlike anything Andy had ever heard from her before. "I need to know if you've sustained a head injury, or any other injuries that are going to require urgent medical attention."

"N... no," Andy stammered, already feeling better now that she was lying down. The warmth of the townhouse had finally begun to have an effect on her and she was no longer shivering from the cold. Her body still shook, but Andy was sure that was from fear more than anything else. "I just... I just felt dizzy for a moment. But I haven't hurt my head or anything else."

"It's just your face that has been injured?" Miranda enquired, double checking Andy's declaration. "And your knees?"

Andy wondered how Miranda knew her knees were hurt before she remembered that she was wearing a short Chanel Skirt, and her knees were clearly visible. "Yes," she pronounced, and then upon feeling a shooting pain in her torso she remembered that further damage had been done. "My ribs too."

Miranda nodded as she sat facing Andy on the bed. "I shall call my doctor and whilst we wait for her to arrive, you can tell me what has happened. There's no point calling an ambulance; it'll take forever to get here and I'd much rather seek the opinion of a professional that I trust to do the best for you in the first instance. If there's no urgency as you have said then my doctor is perfectly capable of assessing your needs."

Knowing there was no point in arguing with the Editor as what Miranda wanted; Miranda got, Andy returned the nod. She barely listened as Miranda whipped out her BlackBerry and spoke to whom Andy assumed was her doctor. All she could focus on was the fact that Miranda was sitting so closely to her, looking concerned and worried. _For her._

Staring up at the silver haired woman, Andy felt a rush of gratitude for what Miranda had done. Even if she banished Andy from Runway and blacklisted her from publishing because she had bore witness to Miranda's affectionate side, this was worth it all. Just to have the silver haired woman care at this very moment in time because something horrible had happened to _her_, Andy; a mere, pathetic assistant. She still didn't quite understand Miranda's motives for treating her in this manner as it just didn't make any sense, but she would have enough time to debate what was going on in Miranda's head later on when she didn't feel so damn awful.

"We have half an hour before Dr. Stone arrives," Miranda informed Andy as she ended the phone call. "She said that it's imperative that you stay alert and conscious; no going to sleep until she's made certain that you don't have a concussion."

"I didn't hit my head though," Andy reminded her.

"Do you know that for definite?" Miranda asked, the closest to a snappy tone she'd used since she discovered that there was something very wrong with her second assistant. "I am not prepared to take that risk, Andrea." She cleared her throat. "I'm just going to get you a glass of water. Wait here." She said it as though Andy had the intention to jump up and sprint off, far far away from the townhouse.

Feeling small, but also kind of awed at the fact that Miranda seemingly cared enough about her not to want to take the teensiest of risks, Andy shut up and watched Miranda leave to get her drink. There was no way that she wanted to piss Miranda off, not when she was being so _human._ It was something that she never thought she would see, but now that she had been granted the privilege of bearing witness to an entirely different side to Miranda, Andy was not prepared to do anything to speed up her inevitable morphing back into the boss from hell.

In what seemed like no time at all Miranda returned, holding a glass of water and some antiseptic wipes. Andy watched, fascinated, as the silver haired woman placed down the glass and ripped open two of the antiseptic wipes.

"I'm just going to wipe the blood off your face," Miranda stated in such a tone that made it clear the subject was not up for debate. "Your facial wound doesn't look deep enough to need stitches, thankfully. Obviously Dr. Stone will have to check, but I'm certain that I'm right."

Andy didn't really focus on what Miranda was saying; she was more surprised that the Editor hadn't passed the wipes over for her to clean her own face. Nevertheless, she accepted Miranda's decision and stayed perfectly still as she cleaned Andy's face for her. She avoided eye contact, keeping her eyes tightly shut for fear of Miranda seeing the desire within them reflecting back at her. It was rather unfortunate that despite being in a large amount of pain Andy still experienced waves of lust for Miranda as she didn't so much as wipe but made more of a stroking motion back and forth. Andy desperately held in a whimper, not wanting to inadvertently reveal her attraction to the older woman.

"I'll just clean your knees and that'll be it," Miranda murmured, and Andy thanked her lucky stars that she had yet to notice the effect she was having on Andy. Trying to stay perfectly still, Andy watched as Miranda moved onto her lower body, her eyes travelling downwards.

By this point Andy was biting her lip, half through pain and half through an intense hunger to throw herself into Miranda's arms. "Ok," she said in a strangled voice, trying to look anywhere but at Miranda.

Fortunately, Miranda was too focused on cleaning Andy's wounds. "There," she said when she had finished, and Andy immediately felt relief at not having to fight to hold back a moan any longer. She breathed a sigh of relief, watching as Miranda discarded the wipes into the bin just across the room and then handed the glass of water to her. "You should take a few sips at least."

Doing as she was told and obeying Miranda's orders; Andy sipped dutifully. She did so with care as her hands shook, something which she found she couldn't control. It wasn't as though she was cold; it was perfectly warm in the bedroom (_Master Bedroom? Guest Bedroom?_ Andy couldn't even begin to think about the answer to _that_ in detail) and so it must be some sort of mild shock that she was in. Evidently Miranda had also noticed this as she watched Andy's hand, worried that Andy was going to spill the entire glass all over her million and something thread count, most probably.

"You are shaking," she stated slowly.

"Don't worry; I won't spill it," Andy promised, deciding that the best thing she could do would be to place the glass down on the bedside table to the left of her. It reminded her of one frantic afternoon just two weeks ago at Runway when Miranda had made an unannounced arrival at the office an hour earlier than expected from a trip to Milan. She and Emily had zoomed around like chipmunks on crack trying to make sure that everything was in order and nothing was out of place. They succeeded in tidying things away, setting out all requested publications on her desk and making sure that Miranda had her Starbucks waiting, but it was just as Miranda waltzed through her office door that Andy was pouring her chilled San Pellegrino water into a glass. Panicking at the sight of the Editor, Andy slipped and sent the glass flying off the desk and the water all over all the newspapers laid out ready for Miranda on the desk. Frantically, she'd attempted to do some serious damage control, apologising over and over again as she did so.

She was sure she was going to be booted out of the Elias-Clark building permanently, but instead Miranda had instructed Emily to get her new copies of everything ruined by the spilt water and had waited silently for Andy to finish cleaning up. Once she had done so, she had made eye contact with Miranda, only to have the older woman roll her eyes at her. She assumed that Miranda would want her to leave and so she began to, still keeping her eyes trained on Miranda. As she got closer, she saw what she could only describe as a hint of amusement in the older woman's eyes, but by the time she blinked it was gone. At the time she'd thought it strange and that she'd probably just been seeing things, but judging by the expression Miranda was currently wearing; she had been right. She assumed, anyway.

Whether she had been right or not it had been yet another example of Miranda's version of kindness towards her. Andy was sure that had it been Emily who had been so clumsy Miranda would not have been so tolerant. She didn't have an inkling of why this was, she merely chose to accept it because everyone knew that Miranda did as Miranda pleased. If she was nicer to Andy than she was to anyone else; who was Andy to question it?

"I wouldn't put it past you," Miranda quipped, with reference to the previous incident, making it clear she had been thinking along the same lines as Andy. _Weird._

Andy stared. "Did you just make a joke, Miranda?"

Miranda gave her infamous eye-roll once more, just as she had the last time. "Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of saying humorous things."

Andy smiled. Miranda said humorous things on a regular basis, it was just that usually it was at someone else's expense, her words taking on a cruel form. But that... that had been almost as though she was making a joke to share with Andy rather than ridiculing her. As if that wasn't strange enough on its' own, Andy was starting to feel more relaxed just by being in Miranda's presence. It was surprising really considering that at first being around the Editor put her on edge, but she no longer felt the same fear that Miranda used to instigate in her. Andy's hands hadn't stopped trembling, but that wasn't something Miranda was responsible for or that Andy could control right now.

"However, spilt water is not my concern right now. I merely wish to know..." Miranda paused. "Why are you frightened?"

"I'm not frightened," Andy said quickly. The last thing she wanted was for Miranda to think she was a weak, silly little girl. She had already made enough of a fool of herself this evening; she didn't need to make this situation any worse. If she did then Miranda might rethink her position at Runway, and get rid of Andy as her assistant. Andy didn't think she would survive if that happened.

Raising an eyebrow, Miranda gave her an expression that plainly stated that nothing Andy said would make her believable. Andy was sure that if she yelled the words at the top of her voice with a grin on her face Miranda still wouldn't choose to take her words at face value, and would request some sort of proof.

Andy tried anyway. "Really, I'm fine."

"Don't lie," Miranda chastised, but in a gentle tone that was clearly not meant to distress Andy. "You are safe here and there is no need for you to feel alarm or panic. Now, please. Will you tell me what has happened?"

"Why do you care?" Andy replied with a question of her own. She didn't care that there was no one in the world allowed to ask Miranda questions; she needed to know. Even if Miranda refused to give her an answer, at least she had given it a go and _attempted_ to figure out what the hell was going on in this alternate Miranda universe.

Surprisingly, Miranda gave her an answer. "I am... worried."

"Worried?" Andy repeated. "Why?"

Miranda sighed. She looked as though she really didn't want to be having this conversation and was trying ever so hard not to say something cutting to Andy. Though why she was even attempting to be nice in the first place, let alone why she was putting so much effort into it was Andy's main concern.

Eventually, Miranda replied slowly, "Because I care for you, Andrea."

Andy's jaw dropped, and she was pretty sure that she was doing an impression of a gormless idiot right now. "You do?"

"_Yes_," Miranda said impatiently.

"Oh."

Well, what was there to say to that? _Thank you? I care about you too? Kiss me?_ Andy was pretty certain that Miranda would roll her eyes at the first phrase, look disturbed at the second, and possibly slap her if she said the third.

In spite of the fact that Miranda was right, Andy didn't want to admit that yes, she was scared. There was a wave of terror roaring quietly inside, and Andy knew that the moment she acknowledged it this would become unbearable and she would have a full-on panic attack or breakdown entirely. It wasn't that she couldn't handle what had happened, it was more that the madman was still out there, still roaming the streets. He might be looking for her, or he may have moved onto someone else, or... _no_. _No, he couldn't be, could he?_ _What if he was right outside the townhouse at exactly this moment? Miranda. Or inside, and the girls... Oh God. No._

"Where are the twins?" Andy asked, beginning to panic. "Are they sleeping?"

"They are at their father's for the weekend," Miranda informed her, frowning. It was obvious that she didn't see where this line of enquiry was going, but apparently she had chosen to indulge Andy. "Why? What's wrong?"

Although relief flooded Andy's veins at hearing the twins were safe, there was still a threat to Miranda. If he was inside the house then it was likely to still be Andy who would be the target, not Miranda. There was nothing for it, Andy would simply have to leave so he'd follow her, if only to keep Miranda safe. She had taken such a stupid risk by coming here; she should have called Roy to pick up the Book and deliver it and then coaxed the madman to follow her by walking the streets alone.

"Miranda, I have to go," she said urgently. Andy swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the pain in her legs. "I'm putting you in danger; I can't be here."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Miranda asked, placing her arm forward as a barrier to prevent Andy from getting up. "Explain yourself."

"There's no time!" Andy was verging on hysterical now. She couldn't let him hurt Miranda. If anything ever happened to her then Andy didn't think she would be able to forgive herself. How was she supposed to live knowing that she was responsible for putting Miranda into the madman's hands? "I have to go, I have to!"

"Go where?" Miranda pressed on with her questioning, evidently confused by Andy's behaviour. "Andrea, you're not making any sense. Please; just stop for a moment."

"He's going to hurt you, Miranda, and I can't let that happen," Andy insisted. She didn't have time to explain everything to Miranda, and she could only pray that the Editor would go along with what she said and trust her.

"There's no one here," Miranda said firmly, ignoring Andy's protests. "You're in shock and you need to calm down."

"No," Andy shook her head vehemently. She sobbed, the tears starting to fall once again. "You don't understand... I just don't want you in danger." Why wouldn't Miranda _listen_? She was doing this for her own good, to protect her. All in all she was making sure that she fulfilled her duties as a good assistant; what was so wrong with that?

"Help me to understand," Miranda requested, placing a hand on Andy's leg, and gently pulling her back into a half-seated, half-laying position on the bed. "Breathe slowly, calm down, and talk to me."

Realising that she had no choice and the only way she was going to get Miranda to pay attention to her would be to explain what had happened, Andy spoke quickly. "I got the subway because Roy was busy and I was already late... and a man followed me. He tried to... well I don't really know what he was going to do, but he hurt me. I got away but I didn't want him to see me come here, so I ran fast and waited in the street to see if he'd get me... but he didn't. And I knew you had to have the Book so I delivered it, but then I got blood on it, and I couldn't leave quickly in case he had seen me come in and then got in after me," she rambled. "So you see why I have to go. I can't put you in danger," she repeated, her words disjointed as she struggled to make sense.

Miranda visibly paled, and for a moment, Andy thought she was going to cry. She had never looked so... so un-Miranda-like before. "I'm sorry," Andy told her, hiccupping through her tears. "So... so sorry."

Breathing out slowly, Miranda looked as though she was trying to compose herself. There seemed to be an array of different emotions passing over her face, but for the life of her Andy couldn't put her finger on what any one of them was for they were far too brief. She didn't know what Miranda was thinking at the best of times, and here, now, in this situation there wasn't a chance in hell that she would suddenly understand the older woman and the way that her mind worked. Trembling, Andy bowed her head and waited, preparing herself for the tirade of abuse that was sure to spill from Miranda's lips at the damage she had caused the Book.

"Don't you dare," Miranda began, her lips quivering. "Don't you apologise for something that in no way, shape, or form is your fault." She let out a breath. "And for the record, I don't care about the _damn_ Book, Andrea. Not when you're here in front of me like... like this."

Andy sobbed harder, not even bothering to attempt not to cry anymore. Miranda wasn't angry at her? Why, when she was so angry at herself? If she had been paying more attention to her surroundings then maybe she would have seen the danger before it encircled her, trapping her like a caged animal. She had behaved pathetically, and even now she felt weak, gutless and _plain fucking terrified_, still crying and hating herself just a little more every time she felt another tear roll down one of her cheeks.

"I don't want the madman to come back," Andy whispered fearfully, clutching her head in her hands.

"The madman?" Miranda repeated Andy's words. "What...?"

"That's what he is," Andy interjected, wiping away her tears. "A madman." She finally looked up at Miranda.

The emotion in Miranda's eyes could only be described at compassion. "We are safe here, Andrea. The only way that... that _animal _could possibly have gotten in would be the front door. The alarms would have tripped had he broken a window, and as I recall you double locked the front door. So you see, there is nothing to worry about for now," Miranda explained, still resting her hand on Andy's leg. Andy wasn't sure whether she was more shocked at Miranda's sudden willingness to explain or her casual touch upon Andy.

"If it makes you feel better, I will alarm the entire house," Miranda continued. She let go of Andy and walked over to a small discreet panel on the wall next to the inside of the closed bedroom door that Andy had not noticed previously. Pressing a few buttons, there was a beep of recognition and then silence. "Now, not only are all entrances and windows alarmed, but the inside of the house too. Were there someone moving around in the upstairs or downstairs hallway, the alarm would sound and the police would attend. As you can see, or rather, hear, there is silence. So we are safe. Ok?" She walked back towards Andy and taking a seat next to her, Miranda took one step further and held Andy's hands, placing them in her own lap.

Andy nodded her understanding, at once beginning to feel calmer. He wasn't here. She would know if he was, and it was ok. She had gotten away, escaped. There was nothing for her to panic about because things were going to be alright now. Miranda was here, and she was taking care of her, and she was the one who was going to protect Andy. She had said so, after all. And everyone knew that Miranda's word was good enough to satisfy anyone.

As Miranda gazed at her with what looked like compassion in her bright, blazing blue eyes, Andy whispered, "Thank you."

Miranda waved off her gratitude, looking embarrassed by Andy's appreciation. It was almost as though the older woman wasn't used to people saying it to her in such a kind, genuine way, Andy considered, but she wasn't going to take back her thanks or apologise now; she meant what she'd said.

Stirring Andy from her thoughts, Miranda said slowly, "I need to ask you something."

Andy nodded, watching Miranda, waiting.

"Did he... did he..." Miranda paused, seemingly struggling to find the words she wanted to say. "Hurt you in any other way?" She finished.

"What do you mean?" Andy asked, unsure of what Miranda was insinuating.

Miranda stared at her, and then appearing to bite the bullet to just ask what she wanted, she said, "Did he violate you?"

_Oh right_, Andy thought. _She wants to know if he raped me._ "No," she answered quickly.

Looking relieved, Miranda exhaled. "So he didn't touch you inappropriately?"

Andy looked down into her lap, unable to meet Miranda's eyes as she spoke her next sentence. "He put his hand inside my shirt and grabbed my chest," she paused, composing herself before she humiliated herself by vomiting on Miranda.

A flash of anger passed through Miranda's eyes but she stayed silent, allowing Andy the time she needed before she was able to continue.

When she felt like she could speak without becoming hysterical, Andy said shakily, "He implied he was going to take it further, but he didn't get a chance to because I got away." She didn't add that she should have tried harder to get away before he got near her; it was redundant. There was nothing she could do but accept that she'd made a giant mistake and move on from it.

"It wasn't your fault," Miranda stated resolutely as though reading her thoughts. "You didn't ask for this to happen." She looked at Andy with kindness in her eyes. For a fleeting moment Andy debated kissing the older woman, but then she realised how stupid that sounded, even in her own head. Kissing Miranda was a ticket to getting herself kicked out onto the street.

Instead, Andy said what she was thinking now that Miranda had touched upon the subject of blame, and insisted, "I should have fought harder. I was an idiot."

"The only idiotic thing you did was to wait out in the street to see if he was going to come for you," Miranda admonished, her face having adopted a stern expression once more. "You should have run straight here."

"I didn't want him to hurt you or the twins," Andy croaked out, more soothed than she had been a few minutes ago not only thanks to Miranda's alarm system brainwave, but because the silver haired woman was now stroking the palms of Andy's hands with her thumbs, over and over again.

"I would not have let him," Miranda spat suddenly, viciously in her reply. She stopped moving her thumbs and grasped Andy's hands tightly. "The moment I set eyes on him I assure you that I would have killed him with my bare hands for what he has done to you."

"It bothers you that much?" Andy said, amazed. "I didn't think it would be that much of an issue for you."

Miranda shook her head fervently. "You are wrong, Andrea. I abhor violence and anyone who receives the treatment you have tonight deserves to know what it feels like when the tables are turned. In that situation I believe it's justifiable to fight back."

An _explanation?_ Miranda was offering an explanation? Andy felt like she'd entered some kind of other world. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that her body hurt so much then Andy would be sure that this wasn't real and that it was just a vivid and hellish nightmare.

"You will never take the subway again," Miranda announced, her voice so deadly seriously that it jerked Andy out of her thoughts once more. "_Ever."_

"I have to," Andy protested. "I can't afford to get taxi's everywhere no matter how much I wish I could." Although she appreciated Miranda's concern, the Editor simply wasn't living in the real world. Andy had very little disposable income as it was, and constant taxi rides everywhere to avoid using the subway would be way too expensive. She wasn't particularly relishing the idea of going into another subway station anytime soon, but what choice did she have?

"Then you will be granted a travel allowance by Runway for when our cars are not available," Miranda told her.

"Miranda, I can't just charge Runway every time I get a taxi and I'm not working," Andy said, exasperated. "There's no justification."

"There is every justification!" Miranda said angrily, raising her voice in an out of character move. "I need you in order to do my job and there is absolutely no way on earth that if anything happened to you I would be able to do that." She cleared her throat. "And it goes without saying that if by some unfortunate event something as horrendous as this were to happen to you again within this vicinity, you do not hesitate to come here. Do you understand?"

Andy nodded, dumbstruck. "Yes, I understand."

"Good," Miranda responded, and Andy knew at once there was no point in arguing. Miranda's mind was made up, and the discussion was over. Andy supposed she should just be grateful and look forward to not having to use the subway for the foreseeable future, at least as long as she was employed at Runway.

At the moment she couldn't bring herself to wonder exactly what Miranda's motives were for taking care of her like this. It was completely unlike the older woman to do anything without it being a benefit to her, although Andy failed to see what she achieved by looking after her like this. She was sure that she was missing something, but however hard she tried Andy couldn't work out what that something was.. She supposed it didn't really matter; there was no way she'd be able to figure it out now anyway, especially considering the amount of pain she was in. Therefore, she chose to do the sensible thing for once and wait and see if any possible reasons came to light.

At some stage when this was all over, Andy would discover Miranda's motives. She would make sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

kelevra2510... I love that you read this during your meeting... I would so get distracted if I read fics in meetings! Hehe. I love how passionate you're all getting about the story, it's always nice to read such lovely feedback. Still loving all of your reviews... you're all so gorgeous with it. :) Hope you continue to enjoy... halfway though the fic after this part!

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_**3.**_

For the next ten minutes or so, the two women sat in silence. Nevertheless, it was not an uncomfortable silence as Miranda continued to hold onto Andy's hands after comprehending that when she did so Andy didn't shake as much. Andy wanted her to hold on indefinitely, but she was smart enough to grasp that the time would come when Miranda moved away. Instead she focused on how soft Miranda's skin was, how sensitively she touched Andy with just the right amount of pressure. With her head lowered, Andy took the opportunity to trace her eyes over Miranda's hands, noting how they were shaded ivory, a tone that equally matched the colour of Miranda's face.

Miranda was lucky enough to have flawless skin from head to toe. She had laughter lines around the eyes (surprising for someone who didn't laugh all that much) and several faint lines but it didn't detract from her beauty. Really, in Andy's opinion it only added to it. Coupled with her electric blue eyes and perfectly shaped pout; Miranda was utterly gorgeous. She looked so beautiful in fact that Andy found she literally could not take her eyes away from the Editor.

This was something that did not go unnoticed by Miranda. "What are you staring at? Have I miraculously grown two heads?" she asked sarcastically.

"No!" Andy exclaimed immediately, not wanting Miranda to think that she was being rude. Words failed her though as she tried to think of an excuse for why she had been gawping.

"Then why the expression of... what was that exactly? Repulsion?" Miranda snapped, misreading Andy's emotions.

Andy didn't take her comments to heart too much; she knew that it was a defence mechanism of Miranda's whenever she felt self-conscious. Not wanting Miranda to feel like this she protested, ""That's not it at all. You just... you look really nice," she finished lamely.

Nice? _Nice?_ She was an English graduate and that was the best adjective she could come up with? Andy cursed herself. _She's going to think I'm an illiterate loser,_ Andy thought.

Miranda raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"I just..." Andy attempted once more. "You look lovely, Miranda. It's like you're... I don't know, superhuman or something. I don't think I've ever seen you look crappy."

"Yes, you have," Miranda said dryly, and Andy prayed that she wouldn't mention the one time that she could not bring herself to think about. "Paris."

_Damn_. She'd gone and done it despite Andy's inward pleas. Paris had been the best and worst trip of Andy's life. The best because she got to see glimpses of the true Miranda for the first time, and the worst because that involved seeing her caught up in heart-wrenching emotional pain. As if that wasn't bad enough, sleeping with Christian, learning of and witnessing Miranda's betrayal of Nigel, having a temper tantrum and consequently destroying her cell phone in a Parisian fountain all contributed to the Fashion Week from hell for Andy. Meekly dragging herself back to Miranda half an hour later after the adrenaline had worn off hadn't exactly been a barrel of laughs either, and it was not a memory that she had ever planned to revisit again.

"I don't want to think about that," Andy whispered.

"And I do?" Miranda said sharply, a contrast to the fact she still held onto Andy's hands. Although she'd tightened her grip somewhat, she seemingly wasn't angry enough to pull away altogether. "I thought you were going to leave me there."

"I almost did," Andy admitted, and it was strangely a relief to finally speak aloud what actions she had nearly taken. "I was so upset with you, and then that in turn became anger. I think I may have even lost it and laughed at one point," She shook her head. And then, taking the chance, she asked the question she had always wondered in the back of her head but not allowed herself to actively think about. "Why did you let me come back?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Miranda confessed. "I wanted to punish you but somehow, I couldn't."

"Well you did punish me. If I recall correctly you took the cost of replacing my cell phone out of my earnings that month," Andy made a poor attempt at a joke to lighten the heavy tension encasing the two women.

Surprisingly, Miranda gave a small smile. "True. Although that was nothing in comparison to what I could have done to you."

"I know, but I'm glad you didn't," Andy said quietly. "Why... why didn't you?"

Miranda gave an attempted nonchalant shrug, but there was something about it that didn't seem natural to Andy. However, remaining silent she didn't call Miranda on this, and waited until the older woman spoke. "The night before you were kind to me. None of my other assistants, even Emily... well none of them would have done what you did."

"Then I'm glad it was me you chose to confide in," Andy said simply.

Miranda looked awkward, and not quite meeting Andy's eyes she stated, "I'm glad I chose you too."

Shocked at this latest admission, Andy took the time to process Miranda's words. It was all well and good for her to admit things to Miranda, but she had never imagined a world in which Miranda was so open with her. Now that she'd had a taste of it she wasn't sure she would be able to handle it when things went back to the way they were before this evening.

With a sad smile, Andy said quietly, "You know... I hate thinking about Paris. I wish it had happened differently."

"Me too," Miranda confessed. She sighed. "But Andrea, I shouldn't really have brought it up, especially tonight. We need to move on from it so I propose not discussing it from this moment forward. We said and did things we shouldn't have, and that's just the way it is. Do you agree?"

"Yes," Andy said, relieved. Miranda was right; there was no need to cover old ground when nothing would be achieved except discomfort. She didn't want to think about it, Miranda didn't want to think about it, and all in all it hadn't been a particularly great trip for anyone. Jacqueline, Irv, Christian and Nigel had all suffered too, so at least she and Miranda weren't alone in their anguish over the whole situation. It was high time that she and Miranda got over it though, and Andy resolutely decided there and then that no more was she going to allow memories of Paris to overwhelm her unconscious.

Miranda looked as though she was debating what to say next when at that moment there was a shooting pain that ran through Andy's legs, causing her to wince aloud and jerk her hands away from Miranda, grabbing her own thighs. She was sure that there was no way she'd broken any bones or she wouldn't have been able to walk home, but she wouldn't be surprised if she'd done some sort of damage to her knees that was going to last for a good few weeks. Bruises were already beginning to form on her kneecaps and she had taken patches of skin off, leaving her knees scraped. There was barely any blood due to Miranda's quick skilled tending to her injuries earlier, but no matter how good a job Miranda had done they still weren't in great shape. Moreover, a constant throbbing ache was burning inside her, causing serious pain. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. Maybe when Miranda's doctor arrived she could prescribe some prescription strength pain killers in order to make her feel better.

"What is causing you the most pain?" Miranda questioned completely distracted from their conversation about Paris and now focusing on Andy with immense concern in her eyes.

"My legs," Andy replied. As an afterthought she added, "My stomach isn't much better... I'm sure I've bruised my ribs at the very least."

"May I see?" Miranda asked, polite and shaky as she looked slightly embarrassed at asking such a thing. Andy couldn't help but think it made her all the more endearing; especially considering that she was frequently surrounded by half-dressed models.

Andy nodded. She had no idea what on earth Miranda thought that she was going to achieve by seeing her torso but she would just have to let her get on with it. Everyone knew that what Miranda wanted; Miranda got. Somehow, Andy had a feeling that this was no exception.

Still shaking, Andy lifted up her fire engine red Chanel blouse and breathed deeply, eyes fixed on Miranda's gaze, which was firmly glued to her body. Following Miranda's line of sight, Andy noted that there was a little swelling and several red marks where she had been injured. By the looks of things she had a few more bruises to add to the collection. "It's hurting more than before," she stated.

Miranda nodded, still staring down at Andy's bare, revealed skin. "We'll have to be sure that we mention that to Dr. Stone."

"I'm sure it's nothing major," Andy said, trying to reassure herself more than anything else.

"Hmm," Miranda agreed, though she didn't sound as though she had really taken in what Andy had said. Her eyes were still fixed on Andy's stomach, and her chest was rising and falling much more noticeably than usual, as though she were trying to control her emotions. Andy didn't have a clue why this would be and she wasn't really sure how to go about asking Miranda either. Instead, she skimmed a hand over the affected area above her belly button, and waited to see if Miranda reacted to the movement in any way.

Her wish was granted as Miranda immediately snapped out of her haze. "What are you doing?"

Andy didn't want to admit she'd been trying to gain Miranda's attention, and so she said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm just seeing if it hurts when I put pressure on it, out of curiosity more than anything else."

"And does it?" Miranda enquired, accepting Andy's explanation.

"A little," Andy admitted, breathing a sigh of relief when she realised Miranda was not going to push her for the truth, even if she was doubtful that Andy had been honest. "It just burns mainly, but it's not total agony. He could have done a lot more damage to me than he did."

"He did enough," Miranda said sharply. "And I intend to make sure that he is found and brought to justice. Speaking of which, I don't know why I didn't think to before..." her words trailed off as she talked to herself, pulling out her BlackBerry from her beige Zac Posen jacket.

"What are you doing?" Andy exclaimed.

"I'm telephoning the emergency services," Miranda stated. "The sooner the police are aware of what has happened, the sooner they can be out there looking for who has done this to you."

"No," Andy practically yelped, and without thinking she snatched Miranda's phone from her.

"Andrea," Miranda demanded. "What exactly is the problem?"

Clutching the phone, Andy began to panic once more. If Miranda phoned the police then it immediately put her in association with Andy, and that could lead to her being a target if the man found out. All it took was the wrong person to discover their connection and it would be all over Page Six the following day with Miranda's name mentioned for all to see. If that were to happen then it meant that not only was Miranda going to face unwanted press attention but she could find herself in danger, or God forbid, Caroline and Cassidy too.

Andy would murder herself before she ever let that happen.

"You can't call them," Andy told her, trying to sound calm and adjusted. She needed Miranda to think that she was composed and thinking rationally because otherwise the older woman would disregard her protests without even attempting to understand her point of view. "You can't be linked to this, Miranda. He could hurt you too."

Miranda huffed impatiently. "As I've already explained, I am perfectly capable of defending myself and..."

"But you shouldn't have to!" Andy interrupted. "Just don't say anything and I'll deal with this on my own. I can look after myself."

Miranda gave a short derisive laugh. "Oh yes, because you've done such a _fantastic_ job so far, haven't you? You're covered in blood and have cuts and bruises everywhere; not to mention that you nearly got yourself raped and murdered! Easily the stupidest situation you've ever gotten yourself into, I'd imagine."

Andy stared at Miranda, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. Miranda had been so nice to her, so caring and thoughtful, and suddenly she had managed to undo that with just a few harsh words that she had no need to think let alone say. _Why?_ Why would she do this to Andy? It wasn't fair, she wasn't up to dealing with sarcasm, hatred, anger and the million other things that Miranda threw at her day after day. She was hurting physically and emotionally; all she wanted was for Miranda to understand that she cared about her and that she didn't want Miranda to become a target. What was so wrong with that?

Choking back a sob, Andy threw Miranda's BlackBerry onto the bed next to her. Yanking her shirt back down she sat up quickly, ignoring the shooting pains that coursed through her body as she did so. There was no way she was going to stay here to be ridiculed; it was horrible. If Miranda fired her then so be it; it would probably do her good in the long run to not have to experience the torture of being around the woman she loved cursing her day after day for no good reason. She tried to do her best for her and...

_Wait._

_Loved?_

Did she actually just think that? Surely that wasn't what she meant. Maybe she did hit her head after all, because there was no way in a trillion years that she was actually in love with Miranda. It was only a silly infatuation, a crush. Nothing more, and that was going to be the end of it.

"What do you think you're doing?" Miranda asked her, sounding annoyed.

"I'm leaving," Andy proclaimed, rage overwhelming her upset. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, trying not to wince as she stood. "You don't get to insult me in that way! I don't care if you're the Editor of Runway, the Queen of Fashion, La Priestly or whatever the fuck you want to call yourself. Fire me, blacklist me, put a goddamn hit on me for all I care, but I'm out of here."

Hobbling towards the door, Andy had just wrenched the handle and was about to step into the hall when Miranda spoke. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Andy turned, confused. "If you take another step then you'll set the alarm off and half of New York's finest officers will be here within moments."

Andy froze. "What?"

"The alarm is still set," Miranda stated. "And before you ask; no. I have no intention of switching it off and allowing you to walk out of here."

"And if I go anyway?" Andy threatened.

"Then we're back to the original point you were trying to make of not wanting to cause me any danger. I assure you that if you walk out of here and set my alarms off there is even more chance that the story will attract press attention in that instance," Miranda said softly. "You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Andy gritted her teeth, furious. She hated that Miranda was playing on her emotions like this, but the Editor had called her bluff and she damn well knew it. Turning around, Andy shut the bedroom door once again. "You can't keep me here forever."

"No," Miranda agreed, not objecting to Andy's statement.

"And if you call the police then I'll just walk out of here the moment you do," Andy added, goading her.

"Yes."

She didn't see where Miranda was going with this. She knew that eventually Andy would leave and that she couldn't prevent it, yet she wasn't resisting or trying to change Andy's mind. It made Andy's head throb, and for a moment she wondered if she had in fact hit it and not realised. But no, it wasn't her behaving strangely, it was Miranda. "So... what are you going to do?" she asked, not understanding what Miranda was up to.

"Apologise," Miranda said softly. She walked towards Andy, and placed a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have spoken to you in that way."

In complete shock, Andy stared. Miranda had just given Andy her first sincere, heartfelt apology without even being asked for one. Not once in the entire time she'd worked for Miranda had she ever heard her apologise to anyone; not Irv, Emily, designers, Nigel. She just didn't deign herself to speak words such as _sorry_.

Except apparently she did.

_To Andy_.

"Fine. Ok, fine, I accept your apology, no matter how weird this is. But let me ask you one thing," Andy requested. She had to know what Miranda's motives were, and so she debated the best way to phrase the question. She was thinking on her feet here through a haze of pain and fright, but she had to ask something, if only to tell herself that she had at least tried to figure out what was going on with Miranda. She was still decidedly Miranda, but just less closed and more affectionate than usual.

Miranda inclined her head, giving Andy her permission to ask a question.

"Why is it so important to you that I stay?" Andy blurted out before she could stop herself.

Miranda shot her one of her infamous indecipherable looks, and then answered her question. "I want to make sure that you're ok. As I've already told you; I care for you."

Andy paused, wondering how best to word what she next wanted to say. "But... but you're notorious for _not_ caring, Miranda. I'm just your second assistant; no one important."

"You're important to me," Miranda said softly, almost inaudibly. For a second, Andy wondered if she'd imagined Miranda's reply, and then she gazed into the older woman's eyes. There was warmth swirling within the blueness mixed with a hint of something unreadable that Andy could not interpret. She so badly wanted to, but Miranda was excellent at putting up solid barriers around herself that denied people the access that they needed and wanted. Although she had shown Andy just enough of what she was feeling to let her know that she really did care, she had made certain to cover up whatever else there was within her that she most definitely did not want Andy to discover.

It was so _frustrating. _

"Is Emily important to you too?" Andy asked, trying to unravel what was going on in Miranda's head. Why should she be any different to anyone else? She was not as beautiful as the other clackers, not as skinny. She was probably brighter than them but that didn't really count for all that much in the world of Runway. Miranda seemed to appreciate it, especially lately, though that still didn't explain why Andy was such an exception. It intrigued her, and she knew that if it was the last thing she did she would do everything in her power to make Miranda open up to her and divulge what was going on in her head. _She had to._

Miranda shook her head slowly, maintaining eye contact with Andy. "Not like this."

Andy frowned. "Then what..."

"Andrea," Miranda interrupted. She moved in towards Andy and dragged her hand from Andy's arm, up to cup her cheek. Miranda's hand felt warm against her skin, and she had to use every ounce of willpower not to turn her mouth and place a kiss upon the palm. "Please, let's not have this conversation now. This is neither the time nor the place."

"Well, seeing as how you've got me trapped in here and we're probably never going to have an opportunity to speak to each other like this again... we have to discuss it now," Andy countered.

Miranda sighed deeply. She shut her eyes which Andy chose to read as a sign that she accepted what Andy was having a moment to herself.

"Will you sit down for me at the very least?" she replied eventually.

Doing as she was told, Andy took a seat on the bed again. Instantly relief flooded through her the moment that she took pressure off her knees. "There, I'm sat down. Now tell me."

Taking a seat next to her, Miranda wore an apprehensive, almost nervous expression on her face. "I need you to know something first."

"Ok?" Andy replied in an almost questioning tone. She focused all of her attention on Miranda, preparing herself for whatever was about to come.

"What I'm about to say will not have an impact on your future career. If you so wish then as soon as we've dealt with your current situation I will write you a recommendation for any newspaper or publishing house that you wish to work for," Miranda began. "You are under no pressure to say anything you do not mean, and I am telling you this because I see that you want answers, and you have a right to know why... why I am reacting in this manner towards you." Taking a deep breath, Miranda watched Andy, waiting.

Andy nodded. "I understand," she confirmed, wondering what Miranda was going on about. She really didn't have a clue what Miranda was referring to, not at all. She just had to make sure that the older woman trusted her enough to continuing speaking, and so she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to say anything to make her hold back.

Eyeing her, Miranda seemed to debate something in her head. Eventually, she spoke once more. "When I said that I cared for you; I meant it. Entirely," she paused. "And you are so important to me because I do not see you as just an assistant; you're more than that. I care for you on a personal level. At first I thought it was merely admiration for the fact that you've have thrown yourself into fashion despite knowing nothing about it, but when you walked through my front door this evening and I realised that there was something very very wrong; I was terrified."

Andy waited, but Miranda seemed to have stopped. She was still confused. "Ok. Ok, but I still don't get it. Why?"

Miranda stared into Andy's eyes, whirlpool blues fixed directly on her. "Because, Andrea, I have feelings for you."

Feeling a lump begin to form in her throat, Andy swallowed as she sought confirmation of what she was now sure was the case. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, and she felt dizzy once more. But she had to be sure before she responded. Forcing the words out, she stuttered, "Wh...what sort of feelings?"

Miranda paused once more, and then whispered, "Romantic feelings."

The silver haired woman looked devastated upon exposing how she felt, and Andy watched in confusion before she realised that evidently something in her own expression had made Miranda assume that she didn't share the same feelings. Quickly working to rearrange her facial expression, Andy attempted to look neutral. She didn't want Miranda to think that she was disgusted with her; it was just that she was so shocked she didn't know _how_ to look. All she wanted was to grin from ear to ear, but then what if Miranda thought she was laughing at her?

"Really?" she stalled for time. _Think, Andy, and pull yourself together before you tear her apart._

"Don't make me repeat myself," Miranda replied, sounding pained with every word she spoke.

"I... I wouldn't mind hearing it a second time," Andy said slowly, a smile inadvertently beginning to form on her face.

Miranda didn't return the smile. "I'm glad this amuses you so," she almost croaked, moving to get up off the bed.

"No!" Andy exclaimed, grabbing her hands and pulling her back down. "I'm not laughing at you. I just... I'm happy. I can't explain because I can't think right now. But I..." she stopped talking, collected herself and started again. "You have feelings for me, and I'm in shock because I never thought you would feel this way."

Miranda stared at Andy, evidently not having the slightest inkling for what she was talking about.

Andy gave up trying to explain herself and instead, said simply, "Kiss me." If she couldn't describe how she felt to Miranda, then she would just show her instead.

Confusion etched across Miranda's face. "What?"

"Kiss me," Andy repeated, and this time her tone sounded much more demanding. "_Now_."

"But why..."

"Oh for God's sake," Andy blurted out. Refusing to wait any longer, she curled a hand around the back of Miranda's head, and smashed their lips together in a passionate, heated kiss.

It didn't take long for Miranda to respond. At first she didn't really move her lips, but seconds later when she'd gotten the gist of what was going on she reciprocated willingly, moaning into Andy's mouth continuously. Andy couldn't believe that she was capable of drawing such sounds out of Miranda, and it only served to turn her on even more. Shuffling towards the silver haired woman, she pressed herself against her, craving their mutual connection and wanting them to touch. She never thought she would be granted the opportunity to do this even for a moment; not in a million years. Moreover, the fact that Miranda had openly admitted her feelings without any prompting from Andy made her want to explode with happiness.

Even though she was running out of breath, Andy still couldn't bear to let go. Amongst the pain and despair knotted in her tummy she felt a swirl of hope rise upwards, courtesy of Miranda. Even if this was the only kiss they ever shared, it was a memory; a good one to override the bad. She could call this the best and worst day of her life for very different reasons, and she didn't care how ridiculous that sounded, even in her own head. Never would she allow herself to forget how it felt when Miranda nibbled on her bottom lip, or the way that their teeth clashed together as they each attempted to get used to the way the other kissed. It was imperfectly perfect, and Andy wouldn't have it any other way.

Dragging her fingernails over the back of Miranda's neck, Andy slowed the pace of their kiss, savouring the taste of Miranda's tongue against her own. Not at any point in her whole life had she enjoyed kissing anyone else in the way that she did with Miranda, the heat emanating from the older woman driving her crazy with desire. The feeling inside was indescribable; all Andy knew was that when Miranda's warm hands met with her lower back, stroking her gently and sending tingles up her spine, she was in seventh heaven.

This was the most alive she'd felt not only tonight, but in a long time. She never wanted it to stop.


	4. Chapter 4

Auraya Kairi Black- don't worry. By the time I'm done posting there will be no loose ends. Lacerta-Cassiopeia-Black, thanks for letting me know that was your favourite part as I spent ages trying to word that so it worked and fitted Andy and Miranda's characterisation. Maude, yep, they both get lost for words don't they? It's how I'd imagine them to be had this actually happened in the movie.

Everyone else, thank you for the feedback, it's much appreciated and makes writing fic even more worthwhile than it already is!

* * *

_**4.**_

Upon the arrival of Dr. Stone, Miranda disarmed the alarms and went down the stairs to greet the doctor. Both women entered the bedroom fairly rapidly, putting Andy at ease once she was no longer alone again. Dr. Stone smiled the moment Andy laid eyes on her, and Andy was pleased to note that it was a warm, comforting smile as opposed to a simple professional one. Contrary to what her surname implied, Dr. Stone appeared to be a friendly and easy-going redhead, with loose curls falling down from her ponytail. Examining her in more detail, Andy noted that her emerald green eyes shone with concern, and she wore a look on her face that suggested she was approachable. Miranda would most likely be impressed with her fashion sense too, for she wore a classic black suit, (Armani maybe?) and stiletto heels that were most definitely Valentino.

"Hello Andrea," Dr. Stone said, still smiling as she took a seat next to her. "I'm Dr. Lucy Stone."

"Hi," Andy replied, smiling back at the doctor. "You can call me Andy." She cringed mentally at the way that had come out, but she hated being called Andrea. Miranda was the only person who was allowed to get away with it (because she did as she wanted) and the fact that she pronounced _Andrea_ in a heavy European accent that sounded exotic to Andy's ears.

"Ok, Andy; Miranda has told me the basics," Dr. Stone said. "But I'd just like to see if there's anything you want to tell me."

Andy shook her head.

"Shall I leave?" Miranda asked softly.

"No," Andy said without hesitation. "I want you to stay." And she did. This was going to be hard enough as it was, but Miranda's presence in the room was oddly comforting. They may not have yet had a chance to discuss their apparent mutual feelings, but that didn't mean that Andy wanted Miranda to go; she felt much safer with the silver haired woman present.

Dr. Stone nodded. "So am I right in saying you have been physically assaulted?"

"Yes," Andy replied, wishing she'd just get to the examination so that she could find out if any serious damage had been done to her body. Not to mention the fact that she'd more than likely get some sort of pain relief once this was over too.

"I know that you may feel uncomfortable with me asking you this, but I need to know. Have you been sexually assaulted as well?" Dr. Stone followed on from her previous question, straight to the point.

"He touched here," Andy showed her where, trying to remain clinical and detached from the fact that she was talking about her own body. "Underneath this shirt. But that's it."

"Ok," Dr. Stone said, her voice level but somehow comforting. "And have you washed, showered or had a bath?"

Andy shook her head. She badly wanted to shower, but she'd resisted, trying not to think about how horrible she felt. In a way the pain helped distract her from the fact he had touched her intimately in the way that only a lover should. _The way Miranda should_, Andy added silently to herself.

"That's good," Dr. Stone smiled. "There is more chance of the police finding evidence now, maybe even fingerprints. Try not to touch yourself anywhere he touched you," she instructed. "I'm going to have to touch you to a certain extent when I examine you, but I'll do my best to be careful."

Slowly, Dr. Stone began examining each part of Andy. After checking her blood pressure which was only slightly elevated, she moved onto Andy's facial injuries, cleaning out the wounds and dressing them. As Dr. Stone considered them to be only surface wounds, (as Miranda had guessed herself) it made sense that they were the least painful injuries Andy had sustained, and so she barely flinched throughout the treatment. Her wrists were severely bruised from where she had struggled and they ached a great deal, but after Dr. Stone made sure that she could move and rotate them, she proclaimed that it was merely heavy bruising as opposed to an actual break or sprain. This was something that Andy was dearly grateful for; Lord knows' how long before she would be able to work if she didn't have the use of her hands.

"Are you in a great deal of pain right now?" Dr. Stone asked once she had examined every part of Andy besides her legs and torso.

"Not unbearable," Andy said not wanting to seem weak in front of Miranda. She had already embarrassed herself enough for one evening.

"Where are you hurting that I have yet to examine?" Dr. Stone pressed. "Be honest with me Andy, that way I'll be able to help you to the best of my ability."

Realising that she was just being stupid and now was not the time to be coy, Andy informed her, "My ribs and my knees."

Nodding her head, Dr. Stone began by carefully lifting Andy's blouse. She pressed a gloved hand down on each section of Andy's torso, seeing where exactly Andy was in the most pain. She did this over and over until Andy no longer just sucked in her breaths but audibly winced. She couldn't really describe the pain all that much, she just knew that it was the worst pain she had ever experienced in her life. Even when she had fallen off the back of her boyfriend's motorbike at sixteen it hadn't hurt as much; although thinking back, he had only just pulled off from the kerb and hadn't yet had a chance to build up speed. If he'd been going any faster then maybe she would have had more critical injuries as opposed to just cuts and bruises.

After Andy winced again, Dr. Stone apologised. "I'm sorry to cause you discomfort, but the good news is I don't think you've broken any ribs. Even if you have there is little point in causing you further pain by moving you to hospital and doing a chest X-ray; if you have broken a rib the most I'll be able to do is give you pain medication anyway."

"Oh, ok," Andy nodded, secretly relieved that she didn't have to go to hospital. She really didn't want to move right now; being here at the townhouse made her feel safe and relaxed. Previously, she never would have envisioned she would feel this comfortable this quickly in Miranda's home, but that was before Miranda had taken care of her and made her feel so at home.

"I do need to check something first though before I say for definite that you don't need to go to hospital," Dr Stone warned. "Have you vomited any blood?"

Andy shook her head.

"Do you have shortness of breath, and are you feeling light-headed?"

"Neither," Andy said truthfully.

"Ok; that's good. I just wanted to make sure that you don't have any symptoms of internal bleeding," Dr. Stone explained. "I don't think you have considering my examination and you would be in a great deal more pain, but it's always better to check."

"Are you certain that she isn't going to start bleeding internally later when you leave?" Miranda asked sharply, interjecting. "If there is any risk whatsoever I want us to go to hospital. _Now_."

"It'll be fine, Miranda," Dr. Stone said reassuringly. She turned back to Andy. "Other than the obvious aches and pains we've discussed, are you feeling any stranger than normal? Dizzy, perhaps?"

"No," Andy promised. "I'm in pain but it's bearable."

"Then there's nothing to worry about, ok Miranda?" Dr. Stone addressed the other woman.

Miranda didn't respond for a moment, seemingly taking the time to think things over. When she did speak again it was to address the subject of Andy's comfort. "There is nothing you can do to ease her discomfort further? Or that will allow her to heal faster?"

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Stone replied. "You'll just have to allow Andy the necessary time she needs to recover and find a replacement assistant for the time being."

"That wasn't my concern," Miranda said acidly, and instantly; Andy believed her. She seemed outraged by the mere suggestion that that is what she had been implying, and Andy was thrilled that Miranda's motives for asking the question appeared to be entirely selfless and motivated by her consideration for Andy.

A surge of happiness flooding her as she realised how much Miranda cared, Andy cleared her throat, trying to distract the two women from their disagreement. She just wanted this over and done with as soon as possible.

"Sorry Andy," Dr. Stone apologised. "Where was I?"

"My ribs?" Andy reminded her.

"Ah, yes. I'm going to prescribe you some anti-inflammatory drugs to help the swelling go down and codeine for the pain. Is that ok?"

"That's great, thank you," Andy managed a small smile, which Dr. Stone returned. Miranda continued to watch over the consultation, face expressionless.

"You can take a maximum of two painkillers every four hours. If the pain isn't as bad then you don't need to take them but don't take over the stated amount. With the anti-inflammatory tablets I want you to take two every four hours; no varying the dose. Don't take any more than eight tablets of either in a day. Ok?"

Andy nodded.

"I'm going to check your knees and then that's it," Dr. Stone stated lightly. She examined them briefly, putting pressure onto each knee in turn but not causing Andy as much pain as she did when she pressed down on her ribs.

"Can you bend them?" she asked.

Andy demonstrated this for her, and although it hurt it was fairly bearable. "I um... I ran too. Really really fast, so I don't think they're like, really damaged or anything..." she mumbled.

Dr. Stone nodded. "I think it's just heavy bruising, the same as your wrists," she agreed. "To be honest, Andy, I don't think there's much that can be done other than pain relief which I'm already prescribing you. It's going to hurt a lot for the next few days but the pain will gradually lessen and there should be no lasting damage, which is the main thing. You should feel much better as each day passes."

Andy smiled. "That's good to hear."

"You'll be back at work in no time at all," Dr. Stone returned the smile. "But I recommend you take at least a week off, especially after what you've been through."

"She'll take two weeks," Miranda announced. "I need a healthy assistant who is able to run around. I'll just have to make do with Emily."

"You could get a temp," Andy suggested.

Miranda looked positively repulsed by this idea. "Absolutely not. God only knows' what horrors will be bestowed on Runway; the last time I hired a temp she served me with a frappuccino and then proceeded to set James Holt's entire collection on fire. I mean really, she took _stupid_ to a whole new level," Miranda seethed.

"I'm surprised you didn't fire her after she got your Starbuck's order wrong," Andy said drily.

"I did. She set the collection on fire on her way out whilst lighting a cigarette," Miranda drawled.

Andy tried not to giggle at this image, knowing Miranda wouldn't appreciate her laughing at the death of designer clothing. "Ok... well I guess I can work from home and help Emily."

"No," Miranda shook her head. "You will take two full weeks off to recuperate. Understood?"

Knowing that arguing with Miranda was utterly pointless, Andy decided to just accept it. "Understood."

Dr. Stone cleared her throat, drawing Andy's attention back to her. "Miranda's right; two weeks off will mean that when you go back you'll be fully recuperated," she paused. "There's just one more thing that I know you won't want to think about it now, but maybe you should consider during your time off. It may be a good idea to consider therapy?"

Andy nodded silently, looking down into her lap. She had no intention of seeking therapy but there was no point in protesting if it wasn't being forced upon her. She would be fine. All she needed was rest and time to get over the shock, and then she was certain that she would feel like herself again. If she didn't, well she would deal with that then. But she refused to believe that she was unable to get over this without professional help. It wasn't that she thought therapy was useless; she was just of the view that it was worthless for herself, she mused, kind of irritated that a doctor who barely knew her considered her to be so weak.

"Right then; I suppose I'd better be off," Dr. Stone announced, evidently detecting the change in mood. She stood, picking up her briefcase. She smiled over at Andy. "I hope you feel better soon, Andy."

"Thanks," Andy said quietly, not returning the smile this time. "Bye."

"Goodbye."

Miranda followed the doctor out of the bedroom and Andy heard them murmur to each other quietly as they walked down the stairs. Andy couldn't make out what they were saying, and really, she wasn't sure that she wanted to know. She hoped that they were just making small talk, but realised that it was more than likely that in actual fact they were discussing her.

Passing the time until Miranda returned, Andy examined the pills that Dr. Stone had left for her. She supposed she should be grateful that she didn't have to go and pick them up from the chemist herself. Maybe it was a rich person thing; Dr. Stone was bound to be highly sought and reputable considering the fact that Miranda was one of her patients. Although wait... didn't Andy have to pay her, or claim on her insurance now? She was confused, not able to think clearly.

When Miranda entered the room again she sat next to Andrea, eyes travelling over her face. "I can't believe what he's done to your beautiful face," she whispered sadly, shaking her head.

"It'll heal," Andy said casually, though inside she was elated at Miranda's words. She'd called her beautiful. Did she mean it? Her inquisitive nature wouldn't allow it to pass without comment. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

"Well, of course," Miranda said, sounding taken aback at the question. "You are beautiful."

Andy felt herself growing hot, and she beamed at the best compliment she'd ever been given in her entire life. "Thanks," she said bashfully. However, not wanting to push the subject or draw attention to it further, she decided to change the subject. It had been a perfect compliment, and she didn't want to ruin it with her big mouth.

Moving on, she asked Miranda, "So umm... do I need to pay for that consultation or will my medical insurance cover it?" She dreaded the answer and hoped it was the latter Miranda gave, otherwise she was unlikely to be able to afford it.

Miranda waved her hand, "Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. I have it covered."

Andy gawped. "Are you serious?"

Miranda huffed. "Yes. And before you continue to protest; there will be no further discussion about it."

She was using her firmer-than-usual tone of voice, and once more Andy decided it was just easier to agree. "Fine."

Miranda glanced over at the tablets next to Andy. "Now, have you taken both your tablets?"

"No," Andy denied.

"Well, take them," Miranda ordered.

Doing as she was told, Andy dutifully took two of each tablet, sipping water with each one. Hopefully the pain would now begin to subside. She dreaded to think what she would look like once the bruises had manifested, although no doubt the tarnished skin would feature a rainbow of horrifying colours that blended together. _Lovely._

"Do you..." Miranda paused, seemingly to think over her words. "Do you think that you're going to be able to deal with this without the aid of professionals?"

"You mean a shrink," Andy said wryly.

"I am referring to a therapist, not a psychiatrist," Miranda clarified. "Someone who you will be able to discuss your feelings with."

"I don't need to discuss my feelings with anyone. Not now, not next year, or ever," Andy said resolutely.

"You don't think it would help?" Miranda suggested. "I would pay, of course."

Andy sighed, wondering how she was going to make Miranda understand that she didn't want any sort of therapy or counselling. Or for her to keep throwing money at anything and everything she deemed necessary for Andy, but then she should probably leave _that_ argument until another day when she was feeling better. Right now all Andy wanted was to forget the entire situation, and later, if she was hurting then she would speak to a friend. Probably not Lily, but maybe Doug. He usually found it easier to listen than Lily after all, he was the only one that really bothered to stay in touch with her after she and Nate had ended. But talking to others was a long way off anyway; for the moment she just had to see how she felt and deal with it herself. "I don't need to talk about it."

"Do you not think you should discuss with someone what you've been through?" Miranda pressed.

"I don't want to," Andy replied. "I don't want to tell anyone."

"In the future you might," Miranda said, and Andy supposed she might have a valid point.

"You're right," she said slowly, agreeing with the older woman. "In the future, maybe. And if I'm struggling, then I'll see a therapist. Just... not now. I don't want that."

"Nothing I say will make you change your mind?" Miranda said, although she seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that Andy was not going to listen to her regarding therapy.

"No. I'll be fine and if for some reason I'm not in the future, then I'll talk to a friend," Andy stated.

"Or a boyfriend?" Miranda queried, keeping her tone light. The question was completely out of the blue and sounded unnatural coming from Miranda. She was saying it in a perfectly kind manner, not pursing her lips or looking as though she were jealous.

Andy frowned. "Why would I have kissed you if I had a boyfriend?"

"Ohhh, I don't know," Miranda said with a shrug, meeting Andy's eyes with a sharp gaze that betrayed how she really felt about the subject. "Perhaps you have no concept of fidelity."

Shocked at what Miranda was implying, Andy tried to work out how therapy related to her having a boyfriend. She couldn't make sense of it no matter how hard she tried, and so she said slowly, "Why would you think I have a boyfriend?"

"You have had one since you were employed at Runway, have you not?" Miranda said.

"I... well... yes," Andy admitted honestly, seeing no reason why she needed to lie. "But we split up months ago, Miranda. He doesn't even live in New York anymore; he's got a new job in Boston."

Miranda nodded, and it looked as though she didn't quite believe Andy.

The most surprising thing for Andy was that Miranda was even aware of Nate's existence. She'd always been under the impression that Miranda tuned out any conversation that she had with Emily whilst they were at their desks, especially considering that the majority of it involved Emily ridiculing her or telling her to shut up. Apparently she'd been wrong. Therefore, Andy chose her next words carefully, not wanting to start an argument. "He said that I wasn't committed to our relationship. He said... he said that the person whose calls I always take is the relationship I'm in," she paused, allowing Miranda time to digest her words. "And then he made a smart comment about how he hopes we're very happy together."

"Are you serious?" Miranda asked, and Andy was pleased to note she looked astonished. It seemed that Andy was finally getting through to her.

"Yes, I'm serious. He packed his bags that night and by the time I got home he'd left. I've spoken to him since on the phone, but we basically decided to call it quits. I wasn't prepared to leave Runway and he wasn't prepared to accept me as I am now. So you see, there is no boyfriend. Or girlfriend, for that matter." She gave Miranda a small smile.

"So you're single?" Miranda said, seeking further clarification.

"I am," Andy acknowledged. "I'm not sure I want to be though. I'm kind of crazy about someone."

"You are?" Miranda arched an eyebrow.

Andy grinned. "Yep. I think she's single too... she's just gotten divorced and seeing as I'm her assistant I know pretty much everything that that she does, and it doesn't look as though she's been dating anyone. Of course, I could be wrong and it may be the case that she's been secretly sleeping with Irv Ravitz."

Miranda looked disturbed. "Those painkillers have gone to your head already. I'm not seeing anyone, Andrea. And for the record, I'd rather sleep with Jacqueline Follet than Irv, and believe me that is saying something."

"Jacqueline is hot," Andy blurted out before she could stop herself. _Damn._ Apparently the codeine was affecting her more than she'd realised.

The atmosphere in the room chilled by about a hundred degrees, and Andy cursed herself inwardly.

"I'm glad you think so," Miranda said icily.

"Miranda," Andy started.

"No, no," Miranda held up a hand to indicate that Andy should stop talking. "I should be grateful for your honesty; at least you haven't hidden your feelings regarding other women the way that Stephen used to."

"I'm sorry," Andy apologised, before Miranda could cut her off again. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just..." she searched her head for the right thing to say, but the codeine had made her head go fuzzy. "I don't want to sleep with Jacqueline or anything like that. I want you, Miranda."

"I find that hard to believe," Miranda said, and now it seemed to Andy as though her voice was choking up.

Feeling awful, Andy went about rectifying the damage she'd done. "Are you kidding? You're like... the hottest woman I know. Way up there," She gestured with her hand. "Jacqueline has nothing on you. Besides, it's not her I'm in love with."

Miranda was struck by Andy's admission, and she looked stunned.

"Don't look like that," Andy shook her head. "I wasn't going to say anything because I thought it was too soon, but I'd rather you know too much of how I feel about you than not enough. You're everything to me. Please, don't be mad," Andy begged, and she worried that she was going to start crying again.

Something in Miranda snapped, and she drew Andy into her arms. "I'm not angry, Andrea. I'm sorry, I'm being ridiculous."

Andy sniffed against Miranda's shoulder and buried her head in deeper.

"For what it's worth; I feel the same," Miranda revealed.

"You do?" Andy mumbled against Miranda's jacket.

"Yes," Miranda said firmly. She shifted, pulling Andy's head up so that they were face to face. "So let's just forget about everyone else, ok? We've established that we have mutual feelings for each other, and that's all that matters." She smiled at Andy.

Smiling back, Andy nodded. "Ok." She sniffed. "Can't believe you've apologised to me twice in one night now."

Miranda chuckled lightly. "Don't get used to it."

"I think I might already be used to it," Andy admitted. "I like it when you're nice to me."

"Well now that will be a regular occurrence from now on," Miranda promised. Enveloping Andy closer, she placed a soft kiss on Andy's mouth, holding her once again. "For the moment though we have to focus on what has happened this evening," she said gently. "It's time to inform the police." Her tone was soft but somewhat resolute, and Andy understood that this was not a mere request but the only option as far as Miranda was concerned.

Andy gazed up at Miranda, her big brown eyes fearful. "I don't know if I can," she said, her voice trembling.

Miranda placed a hand over hers. Immediately feeling the warmth emanating from her skin, in that moment alone Andy failed to see how anyone could ever call Miranda an Ice Queen. She had been so completely kind and caring, her concern for Andy evident in the way that she had treated her from the exact time she had realised there was something wrong. Even the hurtful comment she had made was followed by a sincere apology soon after, not to mention the fact that despite Miranda's awareness that Andy had suffered no serious physical injuries, she was still worried and wanted to make sure that she was ok.

"I know it's going to be difficult," Miranda replied, still understanding. "But it's something that you have to do, if only for your peace of mind. There is no reason why the police won't be able to apprehend the _bastard _responsible for this. There is bound to be CCTV, is there not?"

Andy nodded in reply. "It's just... it's going to be horrible. Having to talk about it in detail, I mean. And I'm still concerned for your safety."

"The concern, though appreciated, is not needed. And I will stay with you if you so wish, just as I did when the doctor attended," Miranda promised, squeezing her hand in support.

Andy paused, her mind wired with a thousand images flitting back and forth, of Miranda now and Miranda then. She couldn't comprehend what was happening between them, what had already happened. It was so unbelievable that someone of Miranda's stature would find her, a mere average assistant, attractive. More so that the attraction did not appear to be a simple lust for her. but something more. The situation that had occurred tonight proved that for a fact, for if Miranda only wanted her for sex then it was something she would have gone about achieving in a very different way.

"Andrea?" she heard Miranda say her name, sounding worried.

"Yes?" Andy replied, still distracted by her own thoughts buzzing around in her head.

"Where were you?" Miranda asked curiously. "What were you thinking about?"

Andy shook her head. "Just... stuff." She left it at that.

"_Stuff?_" Miranda said teasingly, in reference to the last time that Andy had dared to use that word in front of her. Andy would have thought Miranda irritated, but the glint of amusement in her eyes made it clear that she was commenting on it to lighten the dark mood of the evening.

"Yep, stuff," Andy smiled, playing along, grateful for reprieve from the serious conversation. "I know how much you appreciate it when I use that word."

Miranda smirked and raised a hand to brush back some hair from Andy's face. "You're extraordinary; do you know that?"

Andy frowned. "Is that a good thing or not?"

Miranda gave a light laugh before she stated, "It's a good thing. Most definitely." She placed a kiss upon the corner of Andy's mouth, causing her to shiver slightly at the electrical jolts that flashed through her body.

Reciprocating, Andy deepened the kiss, turning her head so that her mouth joined directly with Miranda's, moaning against the softness of her lips. She leaned in towards the silver haired beauty, prolonging the moment and enjoying the brief respite from the reality of what she was going to have to ultimately face. Question upon question from the police, her co-workers, her friends. She had already decided she was going to keep it from her parents and swear Lily (if she even told her) and Doug to secrecy; her parents would only attempt to drag her straight back to Ohio after all. She would make sure that her friends honoured their bond of friendship, however fragile said friendship currently was. Besides, it wasn't up to them to reveal things about her own personal life to her family, and if she made it perfectly clear it would only upset her further then she was certain that they would abide by her wishes.

Eventually, Miranda broke away from the kiss, breathing uneven. "As much as I do not want to stop, I know exactly what you're trying to do, Andrea."

"And what's that?" Andy said, a slight croak to her voice.

"Distract yourself," Miranda said simply, hitting the nail on the head. She didn't look angry though, just accepting. "You cannot do that, not until you've spoken of the details and come to terms with what has happened. Once time has passed... that is when it is acceptable to bring in distractions."

Downcast, Andy stared at the floor. She knew that Miranda was right as she usually was, but she didn't feel that she was ready to begin the healing process yet. It saddened her to think that she was probably going to feel this way for the foreseeable future; scared, angry, upset and pained. It wasn't _fair_. Why did it have to be her?

"Andrea," Miranda whispered, sensing that she was overwrought with emotion. "You've already proved to me that you're capable of achieving so much. I know that no matter how hard discussing it with the police will be; you can do it."

Feeling herself drawn into a hug, Andy allowed herself to melt into Miranda's arms, leaning her head against her chest. She managed to utter one word. "Ok."


	5. Chapter 5

Again, thank you to those who took the time to leave feedback. It is much appreciated!

* * *

_**5.**_

Miranda kept one arm drawn around Andy's waist as she calmly made her second phone call since Andy had arrived at the townhouse. Andy, who was anything but calm, purposely kept her head tight against Miranda's chest to block out the sound of her conversation, and instead she listened to the older woman's heartbeat thudding against her ear. It comforted her somewhat, giving her something steady to focus on, and helped her to feel less alone and more protected. She didn't want to move from her position, the bedroom, the townhouse. She didn't want to be anywhere but here. It felt as though Andy were in the middle of an alternate reality where things felt good and bad at the same time, and her feelings were equally torn in two. On one hand, if tonight hadn't happened then she wouldn't be gripped by fear or pain as she currently was, but neither would she have progressed from a working relationship to a personal relationship with Miranda. Part of her considered that the night's events were worth it just to be here now, whereas the sensible rational side told her that she was utterly insane for thinking that way.

All in all, she was confused entirely.

"They're on their way," Miranda's announcement tore her out of her own thoughts. "They've said they can conduct the entire interview here."

"Really?" Andy asked, surprised. She felt some of the tension ebb away as she realised she would not have to leave the vicinity of the townhouse.

Miranda nodded. "Changes to procedure. It now means that they can conduct interviews within a victim's home to put them at ease. They can also collect any evidence they need here, so you don't need to step foot inside a police station."

There were only two aspects that Andy really picked up on from Miranda's explanation, and she chose to call the silver haired woman on them. "This isn't my home though," she paused. "And I'm not a victim."

"Whatever way you wish to look at this, Andrea, you are the victim of a crime," Miranda said patiently. "And as for this not being your home, fair point, but I don't think the specifics of the actual address the interview takes place at really _matters_."

"I'm not a victim," Andy repeated stubbornly. She would accept Miranda's latter comment, but she was determined to stand her ground on the subject of whether or not she was a victim.

"Oh? And what, pray tell, exactly are you if not a victim?" Miranda enquired, eyebrow raised.

Andy shrugged. "I don't know. Unlucky? Pathetic? An idiot for getting myself into the situation in the first place?"

"Well if you're going to criticise yourself with such adjectives then you should also hand out praise, because you were smart enough to get away. Strong? Brave? Intelligent enough to rescue yourself without aid?" Miranda suggested. "In which case it rather balances itself out... don't you agree?"

Andy remained silent, not wishing to concur, but liking that Miranda refused to accept her condemnation of herself all the same. This was a side to the Editor that she had never bore witness to before, and if there was one thing she was certain of after tonight it was that things would never be the same again. Every time Miranda made a cruel comment in the future (and she was well aware that they would be made... Miranda wasn't going to change her entire personality just for Andy) she would always remember moments such as this, and hopefully it would allow her to hurt a little less when she remembered Miranda's times of praise.

Continuing on, Miranda explained her stance on the matter further. "I understand why you do not wish to refer to yourself as a victim but that is what you were when the assault occurred. It doesn't have to mean you're one for the rest of your life and that it is all you will ever be, but for the moment _victim_ is the most appropriate word. Eventually, as time passes and you begin to come to terms with what has happened... well that is when you become a survivor."

"That's really what you believe?" Andy asked, still somewhat sceptical.

"Yes," Miranda said determinedly, fixing her steely gaze on Andy.

Although Andy didn't believe that she would become a survivor, she believed that Miranda truly meant her words, and really that was all that mattered. Miranda had been right in the past about her (as much as it pained Andy to admit, she really _hadn't_ had any fashion sense when she began at Runway), so why wouldn't she be right this time?

Smiling, Andy began to relax for the first time since entering the townhouse that evening, and waited patiently for the arrival of the police.

* * *

The two female police officers who had been sent to interview her were both friendly and approachable in much the same way as Dr. Stone had been. Detective Sophia Thorne and Detective Allison Carson had both insisted that Andy treat them as though they were friends she could confide in, which strangely enough helped her to feel more at ease knowing that they wanted her to be as open and honest with them as possible.

The first thing they did was to examine Andy's for evidence, all in the comfort of Miranda's lounge. They took her clothes from her, underwear included, and bagged everything to take back to the station with them. Fortunately, Miranda had willingly leant Andy a white, fluffy dressing gown, which Andy had not been surprised to discover was La Perla. She was however taken aback by the fact that it appeared to belong to Miranda; it carried the other woman's scent. Andy had to resist the urge to bury her nose into the material and inhale breath after breath of Miranda's Chanel No. 5 perfume once more; she didn't want Miranda to think she was strange.

The detectives had also processed her for fingerprints, and they found what they considered to be a partial fingerprint on Andy's left breast. Thankfully Miranda had left the room for the examination itself, evidently realising that Andy would feel twice as awkward if she remained present. Although it was a comfort for Miranda to be there when she was examined by Dr. Stone, this was a whole different ball game entirely. Complete nudity was something that Andy had never been comfortable with at the best of times, let alone in front of the Queen of Fashion herself. Coupled with the tense circumstances, Andy knew there was no chance she would have gone through with the examination without having a complete breakdown had Miranda stayed. Just knowing that the older woman was watching her, judging her, would be enough to start the tears flowing once more. If their relationship progressed then Andy was well aware that she would have to remove her clothes for Miranda, but obviously that would be an absolutely different situation, and something she would deal with in the future.

"Are you ready to start the interview now, Andy?" Detective Carson asked when the collection of evidence was done.

Andy bit her lip nervously. She really wasn't ready just yet, and more than that, she badly wanted to shower. She was sure that Miranda would allow it, but she needed to have the courage to ask.

"It's ok if you need to take a break," Detective Carson advised. "We can wait until you're ready to talk, there's no rush."

Andy took a deep breath. She realised that she was going to have to request what she needed herself, and that no one was going to magically realise what she required. It didn't make it any easier though, and it was for this reason that she hesitated slightly as she spoke. "Um, well... it's not that. I just wondered if... well if I could have a shower first?" She addressed her question to Miranda, forcing herself to make eye contact. "I'll be quick."

Rolling her eyes, Miranda sighed. "Of course it's all right, Andrea. Come, I'll show you where everything is."

"We'll wait here," Detective Carson announced. "Take your time Andy, there's no deadline."

Andy smiled at them, grateful. She was lucky that she'd had only kind-hearted people helping her this evening; she was sure that some men and women in her situation were treated so badly that it made them regret seeking help. Had it only been Miranda who treated her well that would have been more than enough, but to deal with professionals who seemed to genuinely care had made it just that little bit easier.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Miranda instructed the detectives, evidently unfazed by their positions of power. Andy supposed that when you were Editor-in-Chief of America's most successful fashion magazine there weren't really all that many people left in the world who intimidated you. She thought that was kind of awesome.

Once Andy was shown into Miranda's en-suite after being led through the bedroom she had just been in (she still couldn't decide whether it was the master bedroom or guest bedroom), Andy was given two huge cream towels, shown the numerous shampoos, conditioners and shower washes, and provided with a matching khaki green Calvin Klein vest top and shorts to change into. She couldn't wait to clean herself, rid any traces of _him_ that were left behind. She hated that despite the fact the La Perla dressing gown she had been given was utterly gorgeous, that she had been wearing it before having a shower. But she didn't want to sound ungrateful to Miranda by pointing this out, and so instead, she decided to just concentrate on it smelling like Miranda.

"I'll get you another dressing gown too," Miranda added. "I'm guessing you'll not want to wear this one as you've been wearing it before your shower?"

Shocked that Miranda had picked up on the very thing she had just been worried about, Andy nodded slowly. "Yes. Thank you."

"I'll get another one exactly the same," Miranda told her. "Do you want to hand me that one?"

"Um," Andy paused. She was wearing nothing underneath the gown. "I'm sort of naked underneath this, Miranda."

"Oh. Indeed you are," Miranda said, not quite making eye contact and seeming flustered., "Well when you get into the shower just put it here into this washing basket." She gestured with her hand to the wicker basket in the corner. "I'll leave another dressing gown in the bedroom for you."

Andy nodded, smiling. "Thanks."

Miranda took Andy's hand in her own, squeezing it. "Take as long as you need, ok?" she said softly. Letting go of Andy's hand, she walked out, shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Now that Miranda was gone, Andy felt as though she were on auto-pilot. Removing the gown, she did as Miranda had asked and placed it in the basket. Deliberately not looking down at her own body, she got into the walk-in shower, sliding the glass panel back behind her. Taking a huge breath, she switched on the water. At first it was ice cold, but it warmed rapidly, cascading down over her skin. It made the injured parts of her body sting at first, but it sort of felt good too. It was cleansing her, purging the filth inside of her.

The first thing she did was wash her hair, scratching the foam into her scalp, digging in her nails. She would make sure there wasn't the smallest particle of the madman left on her. She followed the shampoo with conditioner, and then wanting her body to receive the same treatment, she moved onto the Gucci shower gel, pouring it generously over her entire body. Although she still didn't look, she felt with her hands, massaging herself all over, making sure that she didn't miss a spot.

She felt safe here, cocooned in her own little space.

The warmer she got, the better it felt. Seeing the temperature metre, she realised that the shower could be hotter still. She cranked the heat up, and then noticed that there was a pressure metre too. She switched that up to full. There. _Perfect._ Shutting her eyes, Andy sunk to the floor. With her arms wrapped around herself she ignored the fact that the water was ever so slightly too hot and burning her skin. She just wanted to feel well and truly one hundred percent clean. Her skin was turning red but it didn't matter, all that she cared about was feeling like herself again. This shower would help her to accomplish that.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there when she thought she heard a knock at the bathroom door. When no one spoke Andy decided it must have been a figment of her imagination, and so she continued sitting there, staring at the steamed glass pane ahead of her.

When she heard another more insistent tapping, she realised there was actually somebody knocking. Reluctantly, she stood up and switched off the shower, hastily getting out and wrapping a towel around herself. When she was certain that she was covered up, she opened the door cautiously.

Miranda's face came into view, looking worried. Her expression quickly turned to one of relief when she set eyes on Andy, and a flash of desire was apparent in her eyes before she settled on a concerned gaze. "Are you alright, Andrea?"

"Fine," Andy replied, toneless. She shivered, feeling the draft billowing in from the bedroom, and she shrunk back further into the bathroom, perching on the edge of the bathtub. "I thought you said I could take as long as I wanted."

Surprisingly, Miranda followed, closing the door behind her for which Andy was extremely grateful. Kneeling in front of her, Miranda placed a hand either side of Andy's waist in what appeared to be a gesture of support. "You were in here for over forty-five minutes, darling. I was worried about you," Miranda admitted, in a rare moment of openness. Andy barely even noticed the term of endearment directed at her.

"What, did you think I had drowned or something?" Andy shot back sarcastically, knowing she was being unreasonable but unable to stop herself.

In fairness to Miranda, she didn't bite back, and gave an honest answer. "No, but I did think that you may have done something stupid and tried to harm yourself."

Andy almost laughed. _Almost._ But then, this wasn't really all that funny, and Miranda was laying her heart on the line. Something inside of Andy snapped, and she felt herself start to focus on the world around her once more, coming out of the trance-like state she had been in for almost an hour. "I wouldn't do that Miranda; not here."

"What?" Miranda said sharply, going pale.

"It wouldn't be fair on you," Andy explained.

Miranda visibly swallowed. "Are you... are you implying that were you in your own apartment that you would consider hurting yourself?"

"No," Andy shook her head. "Well, I don't know. If I was alone right now this would be so much worse." Moving off from the bathtub, she sat on the floor and leant against it, allowing it to support her. She felt like crying again.

Noticing this, Miranda brushed tendrils of Andy's wet hair from her face, and pulled her close. "You're not alone though, so there is no need to think that way," she pointed out, holding Andy in her arms and soothing her simply by keeping hold of her. And then she froze, staring down at Andy's legs. "Why is your skin so red?"

"What?" Andy said, following Miranda's line of sight. "Oh. That."

"At what temperature did you have the water?" Miranda asked, aghast. "God, your entire body is red. Your legs, arms, and your back are red raw!"

"Guess the water was too hot," Andy stated, unfazed. _It just prickles,_ she thought silently. "It doesn't really hurt."

"That's not the point. Do you know what kind of damage you could have done? Why would you do this?" Miranda said, still sounding stunned.

"I didn't mean to," Andy pointed out. "I'm fine. Please, just leave it. I don't want to talk about how I feel right now, or I'm going to completely lose it." She really hoped that Miranda would do as she said and drop it. She didn't have the energy to fight about something so mundane, needing what little energy she had left to go downstairs and recount the entire drama of the evening to two detectives that she barely knew. It had to be done, she was aware of that, but that wasn't going to make it any easier. If Miranda was on her side and they were united then it would give Andy the courage to do what she needed to do and provide all the information she could to the police to ensure that the man who had done this to her was caught and justice served. That was all Andy wanted, and she would be able to rest easy once more.

Surprisingly, Miranda accepted her request. "Ok. I'll leave it for now but... you are going to have to talk to me at some point. Especially if we are going to be... _involved._"

"Why?" Andy failed to see where Miranda was coming from. Why should how she was feeling right now have an impact on their relationship?

"Because I want to know when you're happy and when you're sad." Miranda explained. "I need to know, because if we're going to work then Caroline and Cassidy are going to have to find out at some point, and I have to make sure you're strong enough to deal with that. I know that they'll accept you eventually but it may take some time, and I don't want you under that sort of pressure until you're capable of dealing with it. So you'll have to be open and honest with me, ok?"

"Ok," Andy nodded. She understood where Miranda was coming from after her explanation... the twins would be a part of her life, and it had to be when she was ready. At the moment; she wasn't. Miranda already being aware of this was a relief, even if she hadn't really thought about it before this moment.

"Right," Miranda said, firmly. "You need to get dressed and ready for your interview."

Andy nodded, and pulled herself out of Miranda's arms reluctantly. Immediately she missed the warmth, and she had to force herself not to throw herself back at Miranda to clutch her indefinitely. "I promise I'll be quick this time."

"Good," Miranda said, leaving the bathroom. "I'll wait in the bedroom for you."

"Ok," Andy replied. And then she remembered something from a moment ago. Smiling, she added, "I'll see you in a sec... _darling_."

Miranda stopped. Turning on the spot, she faced Andy, an eyebrow arched upwards. "Is that supposed to be amusing?" she asked. "Because I'm starting to think that perhaps I should refer to you as idiot or fool."

Still grinning, Andy walked towards Miranda. She refused to take the older woman seriously, knowing that it was merely a defence mechanism, stemming from her fear of being rejected. Wanting to appease her worries, Andy threw an arm around Miranda's neck. "I'm teasing," she kissed Miranda, a short and sweet touch to her lips. "And I like it when you call me darling."

Miranda's cheeks coloured. "You do?"

"Uh huh," Andy assured her. She kissed Miranda once more, and this time, Miranda reciprocated.

"You need to change now though. The sooner this is over the sooner it'll just be us again, and then we can talk properly," Miranda promised, giving her a small smile.

"Right. Yep," Andy said, relaxing now that she knew Miranda wasn't annoyed with her.

"So like I said," Miranda drawled. "I'll wait out here... _darling_."

Andy grinned as the bathroom door closed, and Miranda disappeared from sight.

* * *

After dressing into the clothes Miranda had left for her and drying her hair, Andy was finally ready to be interviewed. She nervously dug her nails into the palms of her hands in an attempt to calm herself. In some ways she almost felt as though she were a suspect; utterly ridiculous but how else did she explain the fact that there were butterflies flitting around in her stomach? Logically she knew that she had done nothing wrong, but that didn't stop her wondering if the police were somehow going to blame her for what had happened and say that she had been asking for it.

When Andy finally worked up the courage to go downstairs, she was grateful for Miranda accompanying her. The interview started pretty much straight away with no time for niceties, although it felt like a discussion as they sat in Miranda's lounge. Andy and Miranda sat upon one couch whereas the detectives sat on the other opposite, and it was almost like an informal meeting of some sort. This was all the more reason for Andy to be appreciative of the support that Miranda had unwittingly provided, just by silently sitting next to her.

After giving a detailed account of what had happened, Andy was exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep, but there was no sign of the detectives leaving and so she forced herself to stay alert. Detective Thorne had received a call on her mobile, and after a brief conversation outside the lounge door followed by a whispered conversation with Detective Carson, both women once again entered the room. Detective Carson produced a laptop from the holdall they had brought with them, and setting it down on her own lap, she switched it on and began doing something, though Andy had no idea what.

"Now, could you just clarify for us Andy, what exactly the suspect looked like, and what he was wearing?" Detective Thorne asked, repeating one of her earlier questions.

"Dark brown eyes with black hair gelled back," Andy recited. "No facial hair. He was wearing a navy suit, violet shirt, navy shoes. No tie. Like I already said though, even though they looked expensive I don't know what designers they were," she looked over at Miranda apologetically, and the older woman rolled her eyes.

"Andrea, I'm not going to fire you for not knowing such a thing," Miranda drawled. "I'm sure that was the last thing on your mind."

"You probably would have taken note," Andy observed. In fact, there was no probably about it. Miranda would have only needed to glance over her attacker for all of three seconds before she had committed to memory his size, height, weight, clothes and shoes; intrinsic details noted.

Detective Thorne cleared her throat, drawing attention once again. "The reason I ask is because my colleague whom I just spoke to on the phone informed me that a man matching your description and wearing those clothes has been located at a walk-in clinic not far from here."

"How do you know it's him?" Andy asked, heart beating fast. _Did they have him? _

Despite the Detectives being present, Miranda gripped Andy's hand. She linked her fingers through Andy's and held on, a gesture of support. Her touch only served to speed up Andy's heart rate, and she wouldn't be surprised if any second now she dropped to the floor and had a heart attack. Her thoughts were racing, her hopes high. If it really was him then she would be safe. He wouldn't be able to hurt her, or Miranda, or her girls.

"We don't know for sure," Detective Thorne replied. "But he was brought to the attention of the police after he became abusive to medical staff. We also suspect we may already have him on our systems, but we'll need you to confirm."

"I don't want to do an identity parade," Andy said quickly. She wasn't sure if she was strong enough to go through that; especially not tonight. Just knowing that there was only a wall separating them and that he could break free and come for her (no matter how small the possibility) once more was enough to deter her from doing that. It may have been irrational, but Andy was not going to put herself through such an ordeal.

"You don't have to," Detective Carson spoke up, and Andy audibly breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll just need you to take a look at some photographs on our laptop, and see if you recognise him on there. Can you do that for us?"

Andy nodded. "Sure."

"Ok," Detective Thorne smiled warmly at her. "If you don't see your attacker out of any of the pictures on the screen, tell us and we'll move on to the next set of pictures. You can take as long as you need. If you do happen to recognise him then again, tell us. And please; remember that there is no need to choose just anyone... if you don't see him then that's ok."

"Right," Andy replied, taking in the information Detective Thorne had thrown at her. She wanted to get this right, and so she vowed to concentrate.

The detectives placed the laptop on a table close to Andy so that she could see properly. For the first few pages Andy saw no one who looked even vaguely like her attacker. She saw one man on the fourth page that she had to look twice at, but no, the shape of his mouth was all wrong and she knew there wasn't a chance in hell that it was him. She had the face of the madman permanently etched into her brain, and the moment she stumbled across him she would immediately know, she was sure of it.

It was seven pages in that Andy sucked in a breath, heart hammering hard. _His eyes._ She would recognise them anywhere. They burned into her own through the screen, and for a moment she thought she was going to vomit. It was almost as though he could see her now and was watching her every move, lying in wait until the next time she was alone without protection to come and get her.

"Andrea?" Miranda said, sounding concerned, and Andy was aware that she must have a look of horror on her face.

"I see him," she whispered. "Him," she pointed at his picture on the screen. "It's him."

"Are you certain?" Detective Thorne asked.

"Yes. Definitely," Andy replied firmly. "That's him."

"Ok, Andy. I'm going to ask you one more time to be certain. It's definitely this man?" Detective Carson clicked on the man's picture, enlarging it. Andy bit down on her lip, trying to calm herself as his face swarmed before her.

"Can't you tell she's certain?" Miranda snarled. She looked at the detectives with something resembling disgust, and she held onto Andy's hand even tighter than before.

"We need to be sure, Ms Priestly," Detective Carson replied. "Andy?"

"Yes, it's him. No doubt," she shut her eyes. "Please, get rid of his photo... I can't bear to look at it anymore." She closed her eyes trying to block out his face, but it didn't work as he was there, his eyes scorching into her through the darkness. Whimpering, she clutched her head in her hands, trying to breath in and out to keep calm. The oxygen wouldn't come to her though, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't take in any air. She started to panic. What was wrong with her? Was he going to come back?

Suddenly, she couldn't think at all, and her whole world faded to blackness. _Vanished. Gone_.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N **Thank you so much for your kind words over the span of my posting this. I'm sorry for the delay on the final part but I've had a pretty hideous bug... today was the first day I felt a lot better. Anyway, I'm planning on writing more for this fandom so you're going to see me around again for sure, but I hope you've enjoyed my work so far and are happy with the ending. :) Let me know what you think!

* * *

**_6._**

The last thing Andy was aware of before she passed out entirely was Miranda supporting her weight, and cradling her in her arms.

"_Andrea."_

She heard her name being called from afar.

"_Andrea, can you hear me?"_

Miranda was calling her. Andy fought against the unconsciousness, trying desperately to open her eyes. She didn't know what had just happened, but she was grateful that she had her mind back. One more she could think in a somewhat coherent fashion, and this mere fact alone helped to ease the tangled knot inside her chest. Oxygen was easier to take in now, and Andy found that she could move ever so slightly.

Blinking, Andy looked up into the worried face of Miranda kneeling next to her. She attempted to speak, to say that she was ok and that Miranda didn't need to be concerned, but the words failed her. Instead she nodded, aware that she was horizontal on the couch.

"You ok, Andy?" Detective Carson piped up from somewhere out of Andy's line of sight.

"Fine," Andy managed to mumble. "Did I... pass out?"

"Only for a minute or so," Detective Carson replied again, whilst Miranda stroked Andy's cheek tenderly, evidently unconcerned by the fact that the detectives were present. "I'm sorry that you had to identify the suspect... but you did good."

Andy gingerly sat up, turning her head to face the detectives. Miranda got up from the floor and sat next to her, moving closer. "Really?" Andy searched the face of Detective Carson to check for signs that she was lying, but she only saw honesty. Upon seeing this she decided that the detective's words were true, and coupled with the fact that the madman's photograph was now gone, she relaxed slightly. Her heart was still beating just that little bit too fast, but she no longer felt as though she was being observed by her attacker which did a heck of a lot to make her feel more comfortable.

For a minute or so there was complete silence as Andy was given the space she needed to gather her thoughts and calm down. It was much appreciated, for tonight had been so overwhelming for Andy that she didn't know what to do with all the thoughts and feelings she had swimming around her head. Taking a second not to think and to just concentrate on getting herself together was needed, and Andy was grateful to be given the opportunity.

"That's the man we located at the hospital," Detective Thorne revealed once Andy had composed herself.

"It is?" Andy was surprised. She wasn't sure that it would be so easy. The heavy weight in her stomach dissipated somewhat.

"Yes," Detective Thorne replied. "He's currently in custody so we'll question him when we get back to the station. To be sure we have the right man, of course."

"You do," Andy said firmly, knowing for certain that she'd identified the culprit; his face would always be etched permanently into her brain forevermore. And then a thought occurred to her. "Do you think you'll have enough evidence to prosecute?" she asked, slightly panicked by the idea that he may be released.

"We're going to collect any CCTV footage of the subway station area you said you were in; we know there are definitely cameras there so that should all work out ok. Along with your positive ID of him and your account of what has happened, I see no reason why he shouldn't be charged. If we do manage to identify him through any hairs, fibres or fingerprints then we've definitely got him," Detective Thorne explained. "And although we can't tell you his name yet, if we formerly charge him, you'll be the first to know."

"We can't say we have this wrapped up, but it's looking positive," Detective Carson added, giving Andy a supportive smile. "We've won cases with far less evidence. And it may even be the case that when he sees what he's up against we can extract a confession too."

"That's... that's good," Andy said shakily. She felt drained all of a sudden. "Thank you."

"You uh, got him good in the groin too by the looks of it," Detective Carson said, and Andy thought she detected a hint of hidden praise in her voice.

She shrugged and said with a wry grin, "I did what I had to do."

"I don't think I've ever been so proud of you," Miranda said quietly, just loud enough so that Andy could hear, but the detectives couldn't.

Andy continued smiling, unable to stop herself from looking away from the detectives briefly to catch sight of Miranda. The silver haired woman wore an expression that was a combination of pride, amusement, and relief. Andy supposed the latter must be because she had realised that yes indeed, Andy was going to get through this. _Things will be ok again._

The detectives nodded and stood, and Andy at once understood that they appreciated why she'd kicked him there of all places. Her opinion of the police in general had greatly improved because of the two detectives before her, and Andy beamed harder. "We'll be off now, but we'll need your contact details, Andy." Detective Thorne held out a pen and notepad.

Miranda rose. "I'll write them, save you putting unnecessary pressure on your wrists," she offered.

Touched by Miranda's thoughtfulness, Andy allowed her to do as she'd said she would without question. She did briefly wonder whether the detectives would query Miranda's motives for caring for Andy, but chose to ignore it and not worry. If Miranda wasn't concerned then why should she be? If there was one thing she had learnt this evening it was that life was precious and could be taken away from you in an instance when you least expected it to be.

"This is Andrea's cell phone number," Miranda explained. "And this is her address." She continued to write, seemingly from memory, and then handed the pen and notepad back to Detective Thorne.

"Thank you. You can contact either of us on one of these numbers if you have any more questions or remember something," Detective Thorne replied, leaving two business cards on the coffee table. "We'll be in touch." They left, guided by Miranda.

Andy, who had been barely able to formulate a simple goodbye as Miranda's actions sunk in, leaned back into the couch. Miranda _knew_ her phone number from memory? And her address?

"I've armed the alarm again, but only for all entrances into the townhouse now that it's clear we're the only occupants of the house," Miranda said as she entered the lounge once more and sat next to Andy.

"Ok," Andy said, gawping at Miranda in disbelief.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Miranda frowned.

"You know my cell phone and address," Andy said slowly, still not quite able to believe it. "Without needing to look them up."

Miranda's cheeks tinted a light rose blush colour. "I call you often," she said in justification.

"You click my name on your phone, you don't dial my number manually," Andy countered, finding Miranda's embarrassment extremely endearing. "Not to mention the fact there is absolutely no need for you to know my address."

Miranda's blush deepened, and she looked the other way.

Although Andy was still in shock at how much Miranda seemed to know about her without needing to, she was also deeply touched. Learning names and facts about people was not something that came easily to Miranda, hence why she had her assistants whisper names in her ear at important events that required her to remember such things. Anything fashion related and Miranda was completely on the ball memory-wise, but other such details were of no interest to her. A realisation dawned on Andy. "You really care about me."

"I already told you that earlier," Miranda said defensively, still facing the opposite direction.

Shakily, Andy reached out a hand and turned Miranda's face towards her. "I really care about you too," she revealed, finally summoning up the courage to speak the words aloud. Now that she knew Miranda felt the same she didn't have to worry about getting rejected. It seemed however, that Miranda was also scared that Andy didn't feel the same as she did; Andy had never before known her to act this way with anyone else. She supposed Miranda may have been like this in past relationships, but obviously she had not been around to witness that.

The defensive look in Miranda's eyes softened. "Oh."

This was the closest Andy had gotten to seeing Miranda's vulnerability, and she wasn't sure exactly how to go about curbing her doubts. She would just have to do her best and try to convince Miranda of how strong her feelings were. Determinedly, she stated, "This is serious for me, Miranda. Even before tonight... I cared. I know you probably won't believe that but it's the truth. I've cared for a long time, but I just didn't ever think I'd have the chance to be this close to you."

"I didn't think this would ever happen either," Miranda disclosed. Andy's heart soared at the breakthrough, but she tried not to look too happy. She didn't want Miranda to think that she found this funny or she might close off and never reveal how she felt to Andy about any tiny, little thing ever again. "I don't make a habit of falling for my assistants."

Now it was Andy's turn to feel vulnerable. Although she was aware that Miranda hated being asked questions, there was something she needed to know. And anyway, she had gotten away with more this evening than she ever had previously, so she may as well take advantage of Miranda's new found patience with her whilst it lasted. Right?

Hesitantly, Andy asked, "Do you... do you want to make a go of this? I'm not rich, or powerful, or well-connected..."

"And what makes you think that's what I want?" Miranda interjected, not allowing Andy to finish what she had planned to be a fairly lengthy speech.

Andy shrugged. "Stephen..."

"... was an utter bastard," Miranda spat, cutting off Andy again. She figured she may as well just give up trying to delivery her speech and sit quietly and listen to what Miranda had to say instead. "He was an awful husband, an even worse step-father, and quite frankly I have no desire to ever become involved with such a person ever again. Things between Stephen and I were flawed from the very beginning; I just didn't see it. He drank too much, smoked too much and had sex with other women _far_ too much."

"You might find it preferable to being with someone like me when you've actually experienced it," Andy told her. "Not every rich, powerful and well-connected person is as horrible as Stephen was." She took a moment to curse Miranda's ex-husband in her head for being such an idiot. Who the hell cheated on someone like Miranda? Was he blind? Ok, so she worked a hell of a lot, but Andy considered that instead of thinking with his dick he should probably have tried to talk to Miranda and come to some sort of a compromise. Every time he rang the office all he ever did was moan; it was no wonder that Miranda had never wanted to speak to him when he incessantly whined like a two year old.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "I have enough money, power and connections myself, thank you _very_ much. I don't need a partner with the same."

Andy looked down at her lap, unable to make herself believe Miranda. Things like this just didn't happen to her. She'd never once in her life ever been with anyone who she'd truly felt for; not in the way that she felt for Miranda. It was impossible to accept that it was now happening to her, that it wasn't about to be snatched from her cruelly, precisely at the moment she had allowed the happiness to set in. She had nothing to offer Miranda, and as fantastic as it had been to have the older woman look after her just when she needed her most, she refused to believe that it would last.

"Don't even think about walking away now," Miranda whispered, as though she were reading Andy's thoughts.

"I have nothing to offer you," Andy said, a pained expression on her face. She was nothing but a lowly assistant, and eventually Miranda would tire of her. Wouldn't she?

"You have yourself," Miranda said quietly. "That's all I require."

Andy swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that had once again formed in her throat. She risked a glance up at Miranda, and saw blue eyes watching her with adoration. Still, she asked quietly, "What if I'm not enough?"

Miranda shook her head. "No, no. Without a doubt; you are." She cupped her hands around Andy's face, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Andy responded, fluttering her eyes shut. She made the kiss last for as long as humanely possible before taking a breath. She didn't want to leave, she wanted to stay here forever. She wanted time to believe that Miranda meant what she said.

Unfortunately, Andy knew that it was beyond late and she would need to leave for her own apartment so that she could rest properly. "I need to go," she said reluctantly, drawing back from Miranda.

"What?" Miranda replied sharply. "What do you mean? Haven't I made it clear that this is what I want?"

"No... it's not that," Andy promised. "It's just... I have to get some rest, Miranda. I'm shattered and all I want is to go to bed." All she really wanted was to go to bed and fall asleep next to Miranda, but she didn't want to make the other woman feel uncomfortable. They had only acted on their feelings for each other within the past few hours, and Andy was not going to put that sort of pressure on Miranda.

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say so?" Miranda asked, rolling her eyes. "Come on, we'll go now."

With a yawn, Andy shook her head. "I'll get a taxi on my own. Don't worry; I'll be fine." She stood slowly, carefully so as not to cause any unnecessary pain in her knees.

Miranda stood, grasping Andy's arm to prevent her from moving. "What on earth are you talking about, Andrea?" She frowned. "I was under the impression you were going to stay here."

_Oh, ok._ Apparently Miranda wanted her to stay after all. Andy tried not to smile too hard. "Y'know, it might be a good idea to actually invite me rather than just assuming that I know. I'm good at predicting what you require in work but don't ask me to anticipate what's going on in your head; I'm not psychic." She reached out and touched Miranda's cheek, letting her know that she wasn't angry and merely found the misunderstanding somewhat humorous.

"But you'll stay?" Miranda asked, seeking clarification. "Because you want to and not because you have to, of course."

"Uh huh," Andy nodded. She wrapped her arms around Miranda and drew her into an affectionate hug. Burying her head into Miranda's shoulder, she felt the older woman relax at her touch, and her smile widened. Her ribs were throbbing, her knees aching and her face stinging, but Andy couldn't remember a time when she had felt this good when hugging someone else. Even Nate's hugs weren't this good, and he had always been really soft and cuddly like a giant teddy bear. Nevertheless, despite this being a compliment to Miranda, she didn't think bringing up her ex was the best idea right now, and so she kept this thought to herself.

"I was under the impression you wanted to go to bed," Miranda said, a hint of amusement mixed in with the exasperation in her voice.

"I do," Andy mumbled into her shoulder. Hesitantly, she moved back, missing the feeling of being in Miranda's arms instantly. "So can we go then?"

Miranda laughed. It was the first time that Andy had ever heard her genuinely laugh, not because she wanted to make an impression on someone or because the occasion called for it, but just because she wanted to. It was beautiful, and it sent tingles down Andy's spine. "Yes, we can go," Miranda replied, still smiling at Andy. "You're utterly extraordinary, you know."

"Hey!" Andy exclaimed. "That's not nice. I was going to compliment you, but I think I've changed my mind now."

"I was praising you, actually. You should feel privileged to be so astonishingly original," Miranda told her with a grin, and suddenly it clicked for Andy that this was Miranda's way of winding her up.

Rolling her eyes, Andy sighed. "Ha ha. I can't be bothered to think of a smart reply right now... too tired. Bed?"

Miranda nodded, sweeping her eyes over Andy's body and seeming to note how exhausted she looked. Andy supposed she should be offended, but she figured that Miranda probably had the right idea. "Ok, bed," Miranda stated. Taking Andy's arm, Miranda pulled her out of the lounge and up the stairs to her bedroom. She turned to Andy as she was walking, and she asked with a hint of curiosity in her voice, "What was the compliment?"

Deciding that she wanted to tell Miranda anyway, Andy announced shyly, "Um. You... you have a beautiful laugh." She hoped her cheeks weren't too red.

They had reached the top of the stairs by this point, and Miranda stopped, turning to Andy. She paused for a few moments, lost in thought, before she said, "No one has ever said that to me before."

"It's true," Andy insisted tenderly. "You should do it more often."

Miranda quirked an eyebrow. "And ruin my glacial reputation? I don't think so."

Smiling, Andy told her, "Well I guess I should feel privileged to be one of the few people who have heard it."

Brushing back a stray hair from Andy's face, Miranda gazed at her affectionately. "I suppose you should." She took hold of Andy's hands, and stepped backwards into the bedroom.

Andy looked around, surprised to see that she had been led into the same bedroom as before. Wait, so this was Miranda's room? What? She had not paid much attention before, but now she noticed the photographs of the twins on the bedside cabinet, the signs of an impeccably tidy yet lived in room. There was even a small bottle of vitamins on the dresser opposite, Andy realised with shock. She couldn't believe that Miranda had taken her to her own bedroom and looked after her here, before anything had even happened between them.

"This is your bedroom," Andy stated dumbly.

"Of course," Miranda said lightly, looking strangely at Andy. "What, did you think I was going to take you to the guest room and sleep with you there?" She stopped speaking, blushing at her choice of phrase.

Miranda's embarrassment jolted Andy out of her shock, and she grinned at Miranda. "I don't mind sleeping with you anywhere," she said, trying not to laugh as Miranda's face reddened further.

"I'm going to use the bathroom first," Miranda said stiffly, ignoring Andy's comment. She strode into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

For a moment or two, Andy stared at the closed door, trying to work out if Miranda was genuinely angry or completely embarrassed. She knew it had to be one of the two; she just wasn't sure which. Feeling awkward, she perched herself on the end of the bed. It wasn't as if she could do anything anyway; she was already wearing clothes that were suitable for bed (in her eyes anyway... Miranda may not share the same opinion) and she had yet to be given a toothbrush. Whilst waiting she tried not to let herself get too worked up, knowing it wouldn't help the situation. If Miranda really was pissed at her she would just have to explain that it was a joke and hope for the best. That was all she could do really.

After what seemed like an hour, Miranda finally exited the bathroom. She had removed her makeup and changed into a silk black Dior nightdress. Andy tried not to stare and to look at Miranda's face as opposed to the curve of her breasts, worried that Miranda would call her on it.

"I've left a nightdress in the bathroom for you," Miranda said lightly.

_Ok, so apparently Miranda doesn't think a vest top and shorts are suitable for bed,_ Andy thought. She briefly wondered if that meant that her current clothes were just casual lounge around clothes, but she supposed she should probably save that question for another time.

"And there's a spare toothbrush in the cabinet," Miranda continued, her voice giving nothing away about her current feelings towards Andy.

"O... ok," Andy stuttered, unable to stop staring at Miranda. Never before had she seen so much of her on show, and she was finding it hard to ignore. "Um... I'll just... you know, go and..." she gestured with her hand, feeling like an idiot. Apparently seeing Miranda in a nightdress was enough to render her incapable of speech. _Brilliant._

"Is there a problem?" Miranda asked coolly.

"No... no problem," Andy said, disjointed, face aflame. "Just um... yeah. Nothing."

"Evidently there is something wrong, as you appear to be unable to string a sentence together," Miranda accused, walking towards her.

Andy felt her face begin to continue to burn, and she inwardly groaned, figuring it must be karma for the fact that she'd laughed at Miranda just minutes ago. She tried to keep her eyes focused on Miranda's but it was proving difficult, and without being able to stop herself, Andy gazed down at her chest. She admired Miranda's cleavage, wishing she could reach out and touch it. It wasn't the time, not considering what had happened that evening, but _damn_, she still wanted to.

"Hello? My face is up here, Andrea," Miranda said, now smirking, but arching her chest out so as to attract further attention from Andy.

Snapping out of her trance upon Miranda's words, Andy's eyes widened. Cringing at her behaviour, she stammered, "Go...going to the bathroom now..." and sped past Miranda and slammed the door behind herself.

When she was alone, Andy took deep breaths, attempting to control herself. She wanted Miranda so badly that it caused aches in places she had never knew existed before this moment. When they had been just boss and assistant it had been easier to ignore; Miranda had not deliberately provoked her by flirting or seducing. After what had happened between them there no longer appeared to be any boundaries, and although Andy should probably be grateful of this, tonight was not the night that she wanted things to go any further between them. Aside from the fact that she hurt physically, what she had gone through on an emotional level meant that no matter how much she loved Miranda it would be virtually impossible to concentrate solely on the silver haired beauty.

As hard as it was going to be; Andy was determined to wait._ No matter what._

Mind made up, and heart rate slowing now that Miranda was no longer in her direct line of sight, Andy went about brushing her teeth and using the Mac make-up remover that Miranda had left on the side for her. She could still feel clumps of mascara on her eyelashes even though she'd showered, and she didn't want to go to sleep and get streaks of black all over Miranda's pillows which no doubt cost more than she earned in a month.

The midnight blue La Perla nightdress Miranda had left out for her was made of a thin cotton material and reached to just above her knee. Thankful that Miranda hadn't left her with anything too risqué, Andy breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Miranda didn't want to dress Andy up as some sort of makeshift bedtime model, at least not at the moment. Ordinarily it was something Andy would be able to handle, but not tonight. Happiness flooded her as she realised that Miranda had cared enough to see this.

Despite this, when Andy was ready for bed, she took a few seconds to compose herself before exiting the bathroom. Nerves had begun to kick in, and she knew that she was going to have to explain to Miranda her feelings on the current stage of their relationship before things progressed any further and there was no turning back. Andy re-entered the bedroom with a fair amount of trepidation, but she was relieved to discover that Miranda was perched on the edge of the bed, looking at her with a calm expression on her face.

"Hi," Andy said nervously.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Is there a particular reason why you're greeting me when we've spent the entire evening together?"

"N... no," Andy stuttered. "It's just... I... nothing."

She couldn't say what she needed to. Telling herself it in the privacy of the bathroom was one thing, but telling Miranda to her face was entirely different. What if Miranda thought that she was having doubts about them? Andy didn't want to upset her again; she apparently had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. As much as she cared for Miranda, she didn't seem able to get her point across in the right way, and however frustrating that was, tonight was not going to be the night that she managed to improve it. Hell, she could barely even focus on sounding coherent at the moment, let alone phrasing everything carefully so as not to mess things up with the silver haired beauty in front of her.

"What's wrong?" Miranda asked tiredly. Andy didn't blame her. Miranda wasn't the most patient of people at the best of times, and already tonight she had made a lot of sacrifices for Andy. She'd had to hide parts of her personality that were second nature to her, restrain herself from cutting words, bite her tongue every few minutes. She had done well, and Andy could understand why she was fed up of having to act like someone she wasn't. The mere fact that Miranda had even tried to be supportive towards her was proof that Andy meant something to her. That was one thing that Andy would struggle to forget after this evening, because to a certain extent Miranda had to feel _something_ considering every teeny little thing, every sign of affection that she had done or shown to Andy tonight.

"I need to tell you something," Andy said slowly, not wanting to rush and blurt out something she didn't mean to. "But I want you to let me finish before you get upset or anything." She waited, gauging Miranda's reaction. If she looked angry then Andy would fob her off with something else. What that something was, she had no idea, but she would have to just think on her feet.

"Ok," Miranda nodded, and the concern was immediately present in her eyes once more. "Let's sit for a moment."

Andy took a seat on the edge of the bed, next to Miranda. She thought about giving a speech, a lead up to what she really wanted to say, but decided against it. After all, Miranda most definitely appreciated promptness and hated delay. Jumping straight in to say it, Andy confessed, "I want to stay here tonight, really, I do. But right now I don't want to take things any further between us. _I can't_. If... no, _when_ we do move forward in our relationship, I want it to be perfect, and tonight it won't be. I won't be able to focus entirely on you, and it'll ruin it. I'm scared that I'll see his face in my head and panic, and I don't want to get into a state when we're... you know. I'm sorry."

Miranda frowned at her. "Are you saying you don't want to have sex with me?"

"Only tonight," Andy said quickly. "Not in the future... in the future of course I do. A lot. I just want our first time to be special."

Sighing, Miranda replied, "Is that all?"

"Huh?" Andy said, confused. She'd thought that Miranda was going to be angry, annoyed at the very least.

Miranda took Andy's face in her hands. "You ridiculous, lovely, charming girl," she placed a chaste kiss on Andy's lips, and smiled. "I had no intention of having sex with you tonight."

"You didn't?" Andy said, her voice high-pitched. She felt her cheeks glow pink. Apparently, once again, she'd managed to misread the signals. _Brilliant._

"Of course not," Miranda shook her head. "After everything you've been through all I want to do is be with you and sleep."

"Oh," Andy said, because what else was there to say?

Still smiling, Miranda stood. "So are you ready to _sleep_ now?"

Silently, Andy nodded. She was in awe of Miranda and the fact that they were in tune with each other's thoughts. Apparently they had more in common than she had previously realised, Andy mused.

"Ok. Get in and I'll turn the light out," Miranda instructed, ever the boss.

With a smile, Andy did as she was told, snuggling under the duvet. She wasn't freezing anymore, but she wasn't particularly warm either. That was until Miranda got in next to her, and immediately threw an arm over Andy's waist. Smiling into the darkness, Andy suddenly wasn't so cold anymore.

"Will you be able to fall asleep?" Miranda asked.

"I hope so," Andy said, her voice low. She imagined how bad she would be feeling if she was alone right now, and she was even more grateful for Miranda's comforting presence. The madman was still there in the back of her mind, but she was trying to tune him out. "If I could not think about his face it would be a lot easier."

"Perhaps we should have asked Dr. Stone for some sleeping tablets," Miranda pondered. "I can call her tomorrow, if you'd like."

"No," Andy refused. "I'll get over it eventually. It's just... you know what gets me most?" Andy said sadly. "He was so well-spoke and appeared so... so respectable. I never would have guessed someone like that was capable of what he did."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Miranda said softly. "You're proof of that."

"I am?" Andy asked changing the subject, momentarily distracted by Miranda's declaration.

"Hmm," Miranda responded. "When you first walked into my office for your interview... I never would have guessed that you were the person you are today."

Andy smiled, unable to help herself. "My clothes were pretty awful, weren't they?"

"Well, yes," Miranda agreed. "But I actually meant your personality. You came across as rude, arrogant, far too self-assured..."

"Gee, thanks," Andy said with sarcasm.

"...but in actual fact you're confident, enchanting and one of the smartest people I know. And yes, something that I didn't pick up on until I actually looked is that you're beautiful. Not because your clothes or hair or make-up have changed; you just are," Miranda finished.

"Really?" Andy said, fighting back the tears for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Except now it was a good kind of sadness, because it stemmed from Miranda's kindness and affection; something Andy never thought she would be privileged enough to experience.

Miranda seemed to sense the emotion in Andy's voice, because she pulled Andy further in towards her in a gesture of thoughtfulness. "Yes."

"Thank you," Andy whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder or say too much more in case she broke down. No matter how patient and supportive Miranda had been, that wouldn't be fair. She was not the only one who was shattered; no doubt Miranda was feeling similar in that regard and she didn't need to spend the next hour calming Andy down. Therefore, Andy took slow, deep breaths, not allowing herself to get overly-emotional. She didn't need to cry; Miranda had said something nice to her. She should be happy! And although she didn't have the energy for tears of joy right now, she would settle for focusing on the feeling of elation rising from within the depths of her chest.

Miranda responded to Andy's thanks by kissing her on the forehead. "You'll be ok," she stated. "It'll take time, but you'll be ok."

"How do you know that?" Andy asked, curious as to why Miranda assumed such a thing.

"Because you're a fighter," Miranda said simply. "And you won't let him win."

Andy didn't know what to say to that. She wasn't sure she believed it, but she didn't want to get into a debate either, and so she stayed silent and snuggled her head into Miranda's chest instead.

"You should try to get some sleep now," Miranda added, apparently sensing Andy's reluctance to comment on her words.

"Yeah," Andy half-whispered, grateful. She really was utterly exhausted.

"If you need anything or feel frightened for whatever reason... then wake me," Miranda said quietly. "It doesn't matter what time it is."

"Will do. Thanks," Andy said, warmth enveloping her at Miranda's instructions. She believed that she truly meant what she said, and this more than the offer itself comforted Andy. _Miranda cared._ _Really really cared._ "Night."

"Goodnight darling," Miranda replied softly.

Andy smiled at the endearment one more directed at her. She drifted off slowly, thinking of the evening's events, fear prickling at her skin each time she saw the face of the madman in her head. He scared her so much she was on the verge of opening her eyes, but then thoughts of Miranda swarmed her head, of her words, her face, their kisses, and all was right again. He may have taken away five to ten minutes of her life, but she had days, weeks, months, hopefully even years left in the company of Miranda, and that was all that mattered. She dreamed of what was to come, the memories that they would create together. Maybe they would even overwrite the old ones, damaging the painful recollections until they were no longer readable to the human brain. That would be nice, wouldn't it?

Smiling, Andy fell asleep in Miranda's arms; soothed, protected and contented.

What more could she ask for?

* * *

FIN


End file.
